


Who Won?

by Kit_SummerIsle



Series: Challenge, Fight, Claim [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Domination, M/M, Public Sex, Seekers, Trine - Freeform, Violence, Voyeurism, dub-con, power-play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is an AU-ish verse, where Seeker Trines continuously compete with each other in everything and the winning Trine-leader dominates the losing one while their respective (subordinate) mates watch them. It also includes the notion that the Aerialbots have enough Seeker coding in them to participate in this custom. Much to Starscream's grief sometimes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an old kinkmeme prompt:  
> http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/3587.html?thread=3391491#t3391491
> 
> Warnings: obviously sticky, slight dub-con, because I think being compelled by their coding to interface with someone they don’t really want to definitely qualify as dub-con. Power play or domination. Public sex too, or voyeurism from their mates.
> 
> "Basic text" - normal speech  
> "Italics" - comm lines  
> ::Italics:: - bond/gestalt bond speech

Megatron was used to the fact that his Seekers inevitably disappeared after battles. Well, not all of them, only the two top Trines, but it became way more noticeable on Earth, where only two of them were present and not the whole… flock. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t do anything about it either as he learned through the ages. Beating Starscream to scrap never helped that particular issue… in fact it never helped in any issues that came up between them, only provided an excellent outlet for his frustration but that was beside the point.

Way back in Cybertron, when he first discovered that peculiarity, he had Soundwave to send Laserbeak after the recalcitrant fliers and had his flustered TIC report him in a stiff voice that Starscream was fragging the slag out of Thrust and that his cassettes were way too young to be forced to observe that. Not exactly with those words, but Megatron got the meaning quite clearly. The telepath also informed him in that still frosty tone that it was a dominance issue between the Trines and as such impossible to put an end to it by a simple order – it was way too intrinsic for the Seekers, part of their core codes. 

So, he accepted the custom with ill grace, grumbling and sometimes roaring at Starscream for not able to hold his troops in servo. He also made sure that his Second knew of his displeasure with extra beating whenever he noticed the telltale signs of interfacing on his plating. Starscream himself was surprisingly tight-lipped about the whole thing for some mech who loved making his opinion known in the loudest and shrillest voice he had. Just like the rest of the Seekers really.

That things weren’t the same any more came up slowly, after their first few months on Earth, in little, suspicious ways. For one thing, Megatron didn’t always take both trines with him into the battles… and still the Seekers made themselves scarce afterwards. Soundwave’s theory was that just being chosen to go to battle consisted as victory of sorts over the other Trine and they got the dominance facing done anyway. It was a sound theory, but Megatron was still suspicious of his SIC on general terms.

But there was still nothing he could do about it. The warlord entertained the idea a few times to go after them and dominate himself whoever won; it was unfortunately quite impossible, as he was slower in the air than the slowest Seekers and it might even have cost him their loyalty completely if he interfered with their customs. And so the Seekers’ disappearances continued and Megatron tried to accept it as part of the natural order of things that did not obey to any warlord. Much as he hated it. Making up for it afterwards with Starscream was never the same.

-o-o-o-

The raid went better than ever this time. The chosen target was too far for the Autobots to get there in time and so they were at a disadvantage against the Decepticons entrenched in the power plant’s structures and the surrounding hillsides, while the Seekers circled overhead like energon-hungry power-vultures. The Autobots, once they arrived could do nothing but shoot ineffectively towards them and find safe places for themselves from the dangerous shots from above. 

Even the arrival of the Aerialbots couldn’t change the standing of the battle. Starscream and Thundercracker kept the younger fliers from combining with some impressive aerial acrobatics and sonic booms, while Skywarp was surprisingly effective at disrupting their concentration to fire on the ground targets. Even with Megatron calling the retreat, the battle was an obvious Decepticon victory with the triplechangers packed full of energon cubes and hardly any injuries among the troops. 

After they left Optimus Prime ordered some of the troops to stay and help the clean-up efforts and while no mech blamed the fliers outright, it was nevertheless a clear sign that they were to stay too. Usually, the Autobot leader had acknowledged that fliers had little usefulness at the work on the ground and let the Aerialbots go back to the Ark. Not this time though.

Prowl, who stayed behind to supervise them noticed soon that Silverbolt was less than enthusiastic; the big flier was this downtrodden only if one of his team was injured. He also noted the little, poorly hidden gestures, light petting and unobtrusive strokes on his wing that the other four tried to lift his mood with… not with any visible effect. He decided to investigate. It wasn’t normal and the Autobot SIC didn’t like things being outside the norm.

“Is everything all right, Silverbolt?”

The big flier was startled at his commanding officer approaching him so quietly and stammered his first words.

“N-nothing.” – then seeing Prowl’s skeptical glance he continued – “W-we just don’t like being on the ground for so long.”

“Is that all? The cleanup will be done in a few breems and then you may go.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Prowl was sure that the fliers hid something. They were all fidgeting far more than simply being grounded would cause and it wasn’t usual to see Silverbolt so nervous. But he told nothing more just let them fly away when the work was done, himself also making his way towards the Ark. If it was serious, he’d learn of it soon enough. The young fliers were not the best in keeping secrets. But on the way back, he got a comm call from Jazz, the saboteur calling him to a place slightly off their route.

_“What is it, Jazz? I have work back home.”_

_“Come, Prowler, you’ll want to see this.”_

When he arrived, the smaller mech smirked, leading his comrade to a secluded, rocky basin, enclosed from all sides by dense vegetation. They had some trouble to go across the undergrowth quietly and after a breem Prowl felt like complaining that he wasn’t an offroad type, when he found himself in a dark, secluded cove with a view to the basin itself. 

Suddenly, Prowl didn’t feel like talking or making any noise; the Seekers idling in the depression of land were altogether too close to his comfort. It was the Decepticon Elite Trine all right, Starscream impatiently pacing up and down in the small place, while his blue trine-mate sat patiently on a rock and the black one nearly bounced while sitting beside him, talking animatedly. Switching to comm line, he hissed to Jazz.

_“Why are we here?”_

_“They’re waiting fer sumthing.”_

Jazz’s answer was as incomplete as suggestive and Prowl reluctantly agreed – the Seekers not following Megatron after the battle, but staying in distinctly Autobot territory was cause enough for worry. Still he didn’t like being here without a plan or even any backup if necessary and gave voice to his concerns.

_“Dontcha worry Prowler, I told Blaster where we are.”_

_“Who can they wait for?”_

_“Ah have no idea. All Cons went with Megatron.”_

_“You don’t mean…?”_

_“Who else, Prowler?”_

Jazz’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. The normally easygoing saboteur only used this tone when working and judging the situation of utmost importance for the Autobot cause. Of course the Decepticon Seekers waiting for what could only be an Autobot definitely qualified as such. None of them could imagine any of their mechs to turn traitor, but the signs did point to that theory.

_“Our mechs all went with the Prime, except the Aerials, who were at the cleanup and the Protectobots who are in the other side of the planet.”_

_“But we don’t track our mechs in their free time.”_

_“True.”_

Starscream in the clearing has lifted his helm, nodding it to the side, like listening and sneered nastily towards his trine-mates.

“Cowards need joors to gather their courage and slink here.”

“Starscream, you know they always help those pitiful humans after battles.” – Thundercracker’s voice was calm and aimed to placating his leader.

“Yeah, but once Megatron will slag us for dallying too long with this.”

“He’ll slag you anyway Star.” – Skywarp’s voice held a distinctly cutting tone.

“Warp.” – the blue Seeker was warning his younger mate.

Starscream hissed angrily at the black Seeker, who cowered a little, wings lowering slightly.

“S-sorry, Star.”

“They’d better come soon.”

“They will come, Star.”

At that klik a distinctive noise broke through the vegetation. Definitely jets and many of them. The Autobot SIC and TIC looked at each other, unable to see upwards from their hiding place. Soon it became a moot point as the landing forms were quite obviously ones they knew well. Two sets of lipplates tightened into a straight line, visor and optics whitened in an angry disappointment. But they watched on, neither of them is a bot to jump into hasty conclusions…


	2. Starscream

Silverbolt landed nervously, missing a step and stumbling slightly. His wings twitched in embarrassment at the Seekers’ derisive scowls that greeted his misstep. Skydive put a servo on his wing in a silent support, but Silverbolt shook it off quickly. Neither of them were particularly adept at Seeker mannerisms but he knew that facing the other Trine, he shouldn’t show any weakness or needing support from his team. It was bad enough as it was anyway…

“At last.” – the scratchy voice greeted him impatiently – “I was almost led to believe that you were too much of cowards to turn up.”

Silverbolt’s wings bristled and he heard the angry turbines spinning behind him but he contained himself. Starscream was provoking him, trying to elicit a reaction, like he always did and he shouldn’t let it to succeed. He reined in his anger and sent calm across the gestalt bond, smoothing out the roiling _anger/frustration/humiliation_ that they all felt as much as he could.

“We couldn’t leave until Prowl let us.”

“I suppose… now that you are here, we shouldn’t waste any more time. We both have armies to return to.”

Prowl was interested to see the group dynamics that developed in the basin. Starscream seemed to rule the situation, standing straight and tall, wings held high and tautly flaring around him, faceplates held imperiously, with a slight sneer tugging the corner of his lipplates. He was near the center of the depression, facing the bigger Silverbolt, his teammates beside and a step behind him, similarly standing tall, proud and battle-ready. Was it going to be something else than they expected, the SIC wondered inwardly.

Silverbolt facing him from the other side, seemed to yield to the smaller Seeker, despite of his obvious height advantage. His posture was slightly slumped, almost noticeably bent and his wings drooped low. His teammates stood at a similar formation behind than the Cons, two each on his sides, but they looked similarly submissive, disgruntled, even sad. Slingshot looked like he was going to say something nasty, but a fast warning glance from Starscream shut the young flier up, like no mech on the Ark, not even Optimus Prime could. 

Another look passed between the watching officers. The situation was even stranger than they evaluated it at first. Silverbolt definitely didn’t look like he was a traitor; he, and his team looked uncomfortable and visibly wanting to be somewhere else rather than here. But then, nothing forced them to come and stay… unless it was a flier thing, something neither of them knew about.

Starscream’s blue servo rose and gestured impatiently, waving the superfluous jets aside, to leave the two of them alone in the center of the clearing, surrounded on all sides by dense organic vegetation, ensuring their relative privacy from the noisy humans. The Aerialbots retreated slowly a few steps, grumbling and unhappy, but sat down on some rocks at one side of the basin.

Thundercracker waited until they were away before grabbing Skywarp’s wing and yanking the protesting black jet to the other end of the clearing. They also sat, folding their legs under themselves but looking far more comfortable and upbeat than the younger fliers. Skywarp was downright gleeful and expectant for some reason, making the onlooking officers filled with dread. The erratic flier’s mirth didn’t promise much good usually for others around him.

The two figures staying in the middle were engaged in a nonverbal domination match that completely disregarded the differences in height and mass. Starscream seemed to stare down the much larger Silverbolt with ease and when the latter broke their stare and let his glance fall, the tricoloured Seeker moved suddenly, fluidly, slowly circling around the Aerialbot leader, rooted to the spot. The two officers watching them also stayed unmoving, their systems running in complete stealth mode, to remain undetected in the sudden, tense silence.

His steps were even, measured but graceful, white wings held high and proud. His gaze held an expectant curiosity, fastened unwaveringly on Silverbolt. Prowl was sure that the Air Commander was not even aware of the rest of them any more, dismissing every mech else as unimportant. Silverbolt made an aborted move to turn after him, but seemed to get hold of himself and stayed still in the center of the Seeker’s attention. He wasn’t comfortable though, the constant twitching of his wings that nearly went into outright trembling showed it clearly. 

Starscream completed the circle and stopping again in front of the Concorde, his servo moved in a small, impatient gesture down, deadly sharp talon pointing to the ground. The silence in the basin was nearly complete and turning ominous. The tricolored Seeker scowled again and resumed his circling, while Silverbolt seemed to slowly fold on himself and heavily fell onto one knee joint, then to the other kneeling, helm bowed forward to display total submission. Prowl exchanged another incredulous glance with Jazz, together with a slight shrug. They didn’t even dare to form any new guesses as to what was going on.

Starscream stopped after one more circle, this time directly behind the kneeling Silverbolt, who was still nearly as tall as the Seeker behind him. The Aerialbots squirmed and murmured and Jazz heard a sharp hiss from the Seekers’ side, shutting them up. The two leaders, completely occupied by each other, haven’t reacted to any of it. The tense silence resumed and focused on the two figures in the center.

A blue servo reached out slowly and pushed the unresisting bigger flier even more forward. Silverbolt put down one servo in front of him, leaning towards the ground. Unease and resistance was in every line of his frame, in his jerking wings, the nervous rumbling of his turbines… but he didn’t make a move to get up or resist the further slight push from Starscream’s servo. The Air Commander shifted closer, pushing the white upper frame even more forward, forcing the other jet onto his knees, standing tall and proud over the submissive form.

_“D-do ya think Ah’m wrong that they m-might… might be about to…”_ – Prowl has never known Jazz to be stuttering. But then, they never before observed such a queer spectacle. It was then that he suddenly realized what Jazz was implying and fought hard not to crash. Surely they weren’t going to…? They watched on, too gripped by shock and premonition to do much else.

Silverbolt was on all fours now, Starscream standing right behind him, rubbing his cherry red pelvic plates on the Concorde’s white aft, deliberately scraping red paint streaks on it. His servo reaching forward to grab a wing and he stroked it surprisingly gently. His other servo disappeared between them, by the look of it rubbing enthusiastically on Silverbolt’s panel, parting the slightly unwilling legs.

The Aerialbots watched the proceedings nearly frozen, huddled together for company and comfort. The Decepticon Seekers both wore an imperious smile, matching their trine-leader’s and Skywarp was nearly bouncing with gleeful lust. The black Seeker obviously enjoyed far too much whatever was going on and Thundercracker had to smack him on the helm a few times to stay quiet.

The observing officers didn’t hear Starscream, but at his murmured voice the Concorde turned his helm slightly to the side, his faceplates all scrunched up with warring emotions, denta gnashing together. His distaste and protest was still obvious but Jazz was sure that he also saw lust flickering in his darkening optics and slightly opening, panting mouth. His vents picked up tempo, signalling rising internal temperatures and they caught a slight smirk on Starscream’s lipplates beside his victorious-dominant look he wore.

Silverbolt dropped his helm in embarrassed defeat and shuttered his optics when his panel snapped open at the deft ministrations of Starscream. Those vicious talons were entirely too adept at finding his seams and tweaking the wires there wondrously to lit up his whole sensor net with pleasure. He held back a moan, determined to do it until he could, not giving Starscream any more satisfaction than it was strictly necessary. He’d shut the gestalt link down as tightly as he could, not particularly wanting his team to experience the whole humiliation firsthand.

Inwardly he cursed Seeker coding that forced him and his team to comply with what he thought to be outmoded traditions and cruel customs. If only the Autobots knew what they were doing when they used Seeker coding when creating them…! They might have only wanted them to be perfect fliers, but certainly fiddled with codes they didn’t fully understood. But it was far too late to lament that – they weren’t here like Silverbolt, having to cope with the situation.

He ground his aft backwards, into Starscream’s panel to retaliate the only way he could. The tradition-demanded position gave him very little opportunity to move and reciprocate what the dominant Seeker gave him. He wasn’t supposed to be able to do much else than take it. The whole thing was just so… demeaning. Not enough to loose the battle, but to have to submit to the enemy… and lie to his superiors about it afterwards, which was the worst part really.

Starscream retracted his talons before dipping his digits into the slightly lubricating, tight valve. The Concorde was of course bigger than him in every detail, so he didn’t have to be afraid of seriously harming the Autobot which was good… but not enough. He was determined to make it pleasurable for him, to make Silverbolt want his touch, his spike, topping and dominating him. As it was proper for they won the aerial battle.

They were all surprised at discovering that the young Autobot fliers actually had enough Seeker coding to obey the traditions. The first time they turned up after a battle confused and not even fully understanding what they needed, what they wanted, much less why – well, it nearly came to another fight before the matter was cleared up, the customs explained and arrangements made. Now they had to cover it up from two armies, two leaders, two sets of noisy spies instead of just one. 

Though Starscream suspected that Megatron and Soundwave had guessed at least some of it – but choose not to interfere with the Seekers. It was just as well that they didn’t, the Seeker sneered inwardly, while he continued teasing the Autobot outwardly, the Seekers needed this ritual to nail down every time who won, who lost and reinforce the pecking order. The victorious trine-leader mounted the loosing one, forcing him to submit to the interface that was as rough or gentle as he decided to, while their respective trines watched on. It made for clear lines among the ranks and obedient subordinates.

Since for eons the Seekers were all on one side, it was easy matter, and on Earth, with only the Coneheads competing with them for domination it became even easier. The Aerialbots… they complicated matters. They were clearly enemy, but they were also Seeker-coded fliers. The young Aerials despised them for being Cons but admired them for being Seekers. They were contestants but they were also youngsters. Starscream’s coding was in a constant turmoil about them, so much so that only in battle he felt comfortable, when there were clear lines of shoot or be shot down, simplifying things enormously. 

Fragging Silverbolt after a victorious battle was a comparatively easy task fortunately, considering the young flier’s size and authoritative air; he felt the least youngling-like out of them. Starscream wasn’t sure he could have done the same with let’s say Fireflight, but fortunately that wasn’t required. Even though, he never went for rough, not even when something fragged him off before or he knew that Megatron would slag him afterwards. Hence the careful arousing of the Autobot before taking him that Skywarp once even asked about curiously, not understanding the reason.

Starscream felt a slight trembling starting up under his roaming servos, the warm metal heating up considerably in the crisp spring air. The Concorde’s valve that easily accommodated three of his digits was lubricating copiously by now and the calipers tightened involuntarily and randomly. The black servos kneaded the dirt underneath and he could easily spread the golden tights a bit more by forcing his knee joints between them.

Silverbolt wasn’t moaning aloud yet and Starscream suspected that he was either forcing it back or offlined his vocalizer altogether. The Autobot was surprisingly embarrassed by showing his pleasure in the act – true, it wasn’t always easy to submit and Starscream silently gave thanks to whatever deity listened to it that he never had to do it to another Seeker – but it wasn’t a mortifying experience either. Pits, he had to submit to Megatron far more often, albeit that was different on many levels.

The folded white wings trembled and arched ever so slightly upwards, Silverbolt ground his aft backwards, wordlessly begging for more and Starscream smirked again. He hasn’t lost his touch yet and reduced the Concord to begging lust with just a little petting of his wings and a few digits in his valve. Rotating his wrist-joint slightly, he pushed down on the spike cover with his thumb and enjoyed the shudder that ran along the tensing back struts. His spike was pushing the cover impatiently too and Starscream decided that the teasing was enough and the Autobot wanted him badly by now.

Sliding back his own cover, the red-blue swirled spike sprang forward proudly and Starscream hissed an ex-vent of relief. He rubbed the length of it along the white aft smearing the dripping, purplish lubricants around, enjoying the further needy, only half-muffled sounds from the bigger flier. Freeing his digits from the randomly clenching valve, he gripped Silverbolt’s thighs and nudged his entrance with the head of his eagerly twitching spike.

Silverbolt apparently lost his inner battle to stay quiet as the Seeker’s generously sized spike slowly parted his valve’s outer folds and pushed into the slick heat, because he heard the jet’s loud, shuddering moan broke the silence. Starscream was smaller than the young flier by a good margin but the difference in their equipment was negligible and he never had to be ashamed either by his size or his ability to pleasure a valve.

His spike’s thick length slid inwards easily within the lubricant-drenched, softly stretching walls, its ridges and crevices stimulating all his nodes on the way inwards in the most exciting ways. He dimly heard the Concord’s vents roar into life as his hip-plates clanged on his aft plating, but he threw his helm back, optics nearly shut, consumed by his own pleasure. The other’s field also changed; gone was the guilt which Starscream never understood but was always present at first and lusty pleasure hazed his EM field as well, spiced with red flares of the rising charge.

Seating himself fully, Starscream stopped for a klik, enjoying the tight clench of the calipers undulating along his spike and stroked the white wings in front of him. They were such small, folded up things, so far from his own proud appendages, unable to express as much and also unable to convey pleasure to them like his own… Starscream felt ghostly servos knead his ailerons as he remembered to times when facing with his trine-mates and searched in vain for the fixtures on the Autobot. He had to be content with the edge of the wing here, stroking it lightly as even the wingtips were unreachable.

Hooking his talons into a seam, he pulled out, moaning at the tightness and pushed back faster, sliding easily in the well-lubricated channel, strong legs bracing him on the ground behind the Concorde. It was wonderful to have the hot, wet valve pulse erratically around him, to feel the rising charge in his own circuits as well as in the Autobot’s. It was glorious and so right to have the other submit to him and take whatever he gave. Thrusting in and out with a force now, Starscream shifted slightly and swiveled his hips to make the friction even better, the pleasure even greater for them both.

It caused Silverbolt to buck up and grind backwards, his moans exchanged for a shrill keen, his charge driven ever higher with the delicious thrusts. Neither of them had any spare processor power for their surroundings, neither of them saw their teammates squirm uneasily where they sat, aroused by the spectacle, embarrassed on one side, slightly gloating on the other, but all optics glued to the two leaders. Nor had they noticed the two shell-shocked Autobots spying on them.

Suddenly, Silverbolt’s pleasure-weakened arms buckled and his upper frame bent forward. Starscream yelled at the sudden change in angle that came when he rammed into the slick, burning hot valve and heard the answering muffled keen from underneath as he pounded him into the ground. He curled over the bigger frame, panting hot air onto him and pulling him back onto his spike with a strong grab that dented armor. 

His movements became less coordinated but more forceful as his charge grew. Bright golden sparks flew between them as Silverbolt started to lose control of his lighting device and its stray energy buzzed over their sensornet in rolling waves. Starscream loved this part, loved the way the Autobot reacted, his raw, untamed, powerful energies that roiled over them, balancing at the knife-edge of pain and serious damage and gave voice to his pleasure in a screech that reminded every observer of his designation. 

His hips pistoned into the buckling, clenching and undulating valve, servos clamped onto white plating like vice and he braced his systems against the intense discharges that came when he slammed deep in, driving the bigger flier into the ground and clanging his pelvis onto the white aft with denting strength. Silverbolt keened high as he tried to brace himself against the strength of the Seeker pounding into him but failed. It wasn’t pain but it was so intense pleasure that it actually bordered on agony.

Finally, when he couldn’t take any more of his own rising charge, Silverbolt’s voice soared higher still, belying his normally quiet alt tone and he ground his hips backwards, meeting Starscream’s ramming spike and swallowing it up deep… and he shattered. Loosing control of his device, the growing charge exploded outwards in great, crackling waves, scouring their systems raw and grounding itself with impressive pyrotechnics in a wide circle around.

Starscream felt the valve clench impossibly tight around him at the last, forceful thrust and the searing, tingling charge cursed through him in successive waves like the long-gone electric storms of Cybertron, complete with lighting bolts, making the Autobot living up to his designation. He joined him in the roaring, ramming his spike deep inside where he exploded, jetting his transfluid into the scorching hot valve’s deepest recess. 

It took Silverbolt’s systems quite a few kliks to ground his impressive charge and only when it ended, could Starscream relax his tense struts and taut cabling and slump forward, onto the hot plating and wings, strutless, strengthless, utterly spent – but completely blessed out too. The afterglow was only sprinkled with the remains of the charge tingling, prickling through him, his spike twitching from it, his vents hiccupping occasionally in their hard work to cool his overheated frame down.

Silverbolt groaned under him, his field still exuding hazed out bliss, but the overstressed joints complaining even the comparatively slight extra weight on his back. It took every last ounce of strength Starscream got left to lift himself up slightly, enough to put his own weight onto his own trembling legs, but his servos still clamped unyieldingly hard onto white hip plating. He had to manually uncurl his digits and talons from the hip seams, drawing even some drops of energon too with the motion.

The Autobot hissed slightly at the minor cricks and cuts and the blue servos petted his plating almost apologetically in answer. Starscream slowly pulled out of the tightening, oversensitive valve, letting an impressive amount of lubricant and transfluid spill out between them as he did so. He smirked again, the haze of the afterglow slowly dissipating, at the brilliant red marks on the pristine white plating. Well, not so pristine now, with all the unmistakable paint streaks and the fluidy mess smeared on them, marking him for the dominant Seeker for all to see.

Marked through and through, defeated, dominated and taken… Starscream’s Seeker codes sang with satisfaction. He moved back one step, servo magnanimously pulling the slightly shaking, spent and utterly sated Autobot from the kneeling position, stuffing the strained hiss back before it could escape his lipplates. Damn, but the Autobot was heavy. Not nearly in Skyfire’s class, but not the kind either that Starscream could just casually help to stand up. The younger flier’s faceplates light faceplates did nothing to hide the flush of embarrassment that always, inevitably took over his lines after the fragging.

_“You know that there is nothing embarrassing in this, right?”_ – Starscream commed to his adversary, keeping his pride intact by not voicing it aloud.

The glance Silverbolt threw back to him was flickering with conflicting emotions.

_“From the top maybe…”_ – he tried to sneer but his countenance didn’t cooperate and he settled with a grimace.

_“You think I’ve never been the bottom…?”_ – the answer was light but his field flickered with darker tones too.

_“B-but M-megatron… that’s different, is it not?”_

_“Perhaps. But I learned that no mech is always victorious.”_

They stood now just like in the beginning, both of them recovered from the effects of the interface, the teams taking up their position again. The mood was lighter, nearly friendly between them, with only slight darker shadows of embarrassment and humiliation colouring it. Starscream nodded to Silverbolt, like dismissing them and the Aerialbots took the hint and took off, leaving the victorious, dominant Decepticon Seekers alone in the clearing. They waited just until the noise from the turbines was gone before transforming and jetting away towards the Nemesis.

In the darkening hiding place of the overhang two Autobot officers looked at each other for the last time.

_“So, Prowlie… whatcha gonna do with them now?”_


	3. Silverbolt

“It is fraternization with the enemy.” – Prowl answered to him in a tight voice after they extricated themselves from the dense vegetation and were driving back to the Ark.

“But Silverbolt didn’t look like he was doing it very willingly.”

“There was no forcing involved either in their going there or Silverbolt… submitting the way he did.”

“Blackmail though… it couldabeen.” – Jazz paused, weighing his words carefully – “Ya saw Bolt was doing it kinda… unwillingly.”

“It still wasn’t proper.” – Prowl exuded distaste even in his alt form. – “They should have notified an officer in that case and not just give in to Starscream.”

“We don’t have all ta facts, Prowler. Maybe we should just watch them fer a bit more. There was no talk, no opportunity fer exchange of information, so it wasn’t strictly a betrayal.”

“That is true.” – Prowl conceded – “But I have to notify Prime, it is still a serious offense.”

“But don’t confront them yet. Ah have a hunch about it… Ah’ll ask Skyfire.”

“You think it is flier-specific.”

“Ah’m fairly sure. Screamer seemed ta hide it from Megatron too. The whole thing was just… queer. Like a ritual or sumthing.”

“Right. So we do nothing, just watch them carefully.”

“Maybe follow them after tha next Decepticon raid. Maybe we learn sumthing new.”

“And if not, you get to watch them interface.” – Prowl’s tone was dry and unamused.

“There’s that too.” – Jazz smirked unrepentantly, even though he was quite serious about the whole matter.

He was the more easygoing of the officers, willing to overlook or even break some rules too, but he took their cause just as seriously as any of the others. Betraying the Autobots was something he’d never overlook from any mech. The problem was, he simply couldn’t imagine the Aerialbots to do it, even after observing them with the Con Seekers. There had to be something they didn’t know.

But Skyfire could not shed any light on Seekers’ interfacing habits either and no amount of observation told anything about the incident to the officers. Optimus Prime was shocked to hear that his Air Commander was fragging the enemy one, but after hearing the whole story, he agreed with Jazz in that there had to be more in it than they saw and it would be necessary to learn more. In the meanwhile, the Aerialbots gained a few invisible escorts, a lot of duties to keep them busy and in general a covert surveillance. No matter how much Jazz thought it to be something complicated, he was taking no chances.

-o-o-o-

The next battle was the polar opposite of the previous one in terms of military success. The Autobots arrived well in time, the Decepticons were disorganized and frantic, torn between trying to secure the stolen energon and beating back the incoming Autobots – and failing in both jobs. It took barely a joor, mainly just because of Megatron fighting with Optimus Prime their usual bout, for the Autobots to force their enemies into a disorderly retreat.

Nor had the Seekers fared any better than the ground troops; since Starscream was busy with criticizing Megatron’s idiotic, glitched, half-clocked plan loudly, his trinemates were unable to deal with the Aerialbots who ruled the skies over the battlefield and supported the ground movements enthusiastically. Just as Megatron called the retreat, mechs on both sides realized that somewhere along the way the Screaming One shut up and was fast disappearing beyond the horizon with his slightly smoking and dented trine. 

Prowl sought out the blue visor of Jazz, their glance meeting across the battlefield, nodding to each other silently. He gave the supervising job of the barely needed cleanup to Tracks and without calling attention to himself, followed the saboteur to the place he remembered from last time. Quietly sneaking to their observation point, seeing the basin to be quiet and empty of mechanoid life, they settled down to await the fliers. 

This time, it was the Aerialbot team arriving first and landing on the clearing amidst loud and cheerful bantering, visibly in very high spirits. Air Raid was gloating to Slingshot about getting the better of Thundercracker and the brash jet answered to him almost amiably, while Skydive was animatedly explaining the high points of the strategy they used to the zoned out but patiently smiling Fireflight. Silverbolt wore his indulgent leader expression that he stole and perfected straight out of Optimus Prime’s repertoire… but there was a little nervous tenseness in the way he held himself that the two officers noticed clearly.

The other jets’ approaching noise became apparent barely after a breem of the Aerialbots’ landing. Silverbolt hushed his team with a sharp gesture, warning them all through the gestalt link to the expected behaviour. They got into formation beside him with the barest amount of jostling and snarking, shutting up completely only when the other three fliers transformed and landed in front of them.

The difference from the previous time could not have been greater. Starscream wore a scowl on his dark faceplates and tried to stand tall and proud – but the effect was more than slightly fouled up by his dented and scratched fuselage and the slightly still smoking, dark burn-mark on his wing that must have been a painful shot. By the barely squashed guffaw from Skydive, it was him finding the Air Commander and mark his wing thus. Starscream grimaced back at his glee but even from the distance, they could tell that his spark wasn’t in it.

His trine-mates also looked slightly the worse for wear, but none of them had any serious injuries. It was their faceplates that had an identical look to Starscream’s – grumbling, frustrated, wearing embarrassed scowls and Skywarp quite obviously and visibly angry. Lowering their wings marginally in unison, they turned and left the center of the clearing with barely a nod towards the Aerialbots, leaving Starscream to face them alone.

“You got lucky is all.” – Starscream sneered at Skydive, although he looked at Silverbolt while he spoke, trying to make an optic contact with the bigger jet.

“We make our luck!” – Air Raid was far more vehement than his teammates and Silverbolt silenced them both with a gesture and an order through the gestalt bond.

“It wasn’t luck, Starscream and you know it. We won fair and square.”

“Thanks to Megatron being a glitched…” – he shut up suddenly, like he realized that he was still talking to an enemy soldier. Criticizing, exhorting, even insulting Megatron was all well and good until it was TC and Warp listening to it – but not these Autobots. 

“No matter what, we won.” – Silverbolt almost started to enjoy the situation. Starscream was obviously stalling, trying to put off what was inevitably coming while trying to look like he wasn’t. But he didn’t hold his wings as high and proud as the last time, this much even the Aerialbots noticed. This time, it was Silverbolt dominating the scene even with his team retreating to the sidelines.

“Barely…” – Starscream snarled back but his wings dropped another inch again and his voice broke ever so slightly, the rasp becoming more audible.

“There are no shades of grey in this. You win… or you lose.” – Silverbolt countered him easily. He flared his wings as much as they went, which wasn’t much, but he couldn’t help that problem right then. 

Starscream hissed, but he was forced to acknowledge the truth of the Autobot’s words. The white wings seemed to fold behind him as he dropped to his knee joints, dark faceplates a study in anger and fury, servos in a tight fist by his side. Silverbolt circled around him until he stood directly behind, his larger frame making the tricoloured Seeker even smaller. He didn’t even have to puff himself up for it. 

“Get on with it Autobot!” – his voice was even more shrill and scratchy than usual, with undertones of fury and embarrassment.

“In a hurry, Starscream?”

The answer was only a growling hiss, a sound Silverbolt would never believed to even exist. That was before meeting Starscream of course. The Seeker’s vocal range was truly amazing; from the most obnoxious, unbearable and audial-grating rasp till a sensual purr capable of sweeping mechs off their pedes; he could express any number of emotions just with his tone. After a few meeting, Silverbolt was not surprised that Megatron beat the flier to scrap regularly – the mech **could** say even a simple ‘Yes Sir’ in a tone that made others pull a blaster in righteous indignation. 

The bigger flier’s reaction to the sound was to push closer to the kneeling – and quietly cursing - Air Commander and slowly rub his servos on the taut white wings spread out tensely in front of him. Secretly, he envied the Seekers for their wings, the way they expressed their emotions, their sensitivity and mobility. Slowly but surely he forced the other flier forward by stroking his wings, soothing his fury and arousing him. Very few Seekers could resist wing-play, even in an unwanted scenario and Starscream acquiesced to him at last.

Silverbolt used his bigger size to his advantage and straddled Starscream’s aft, rubbing on the slightly trembling, slowly heating metal, while continued to play with his wings. He had been a bit worried about the size difference between them at first, but then, he told himself, themselves interfaced within the gestalt and Air Raid had the same frame as the Air Commander. Besides, and Silverbolt’s lipplates jerked with a grimace, according to the rumours the Seeker took Megatron’s spike, and therefore he should be fine with his. 

Starscream snapped open his interface panel fast, apparently not wanting to draw it out for long. The slick feel of his lubricants dripping already and the smell of it made Silverbolt aroused far faster than he’d’ve thought possible. In no time his spike was out and straining towards the smaller mech’s entrance. He leaned forward, putting more of his weight on Starscream, holding his plating with strong servos and ignoring the growled protests from underneath as he started to slowly push into the bared, dripping and oh-so-hot valve.

He was careful of course still, going slow to let the other accommodate to his size. The mesh walls were incredibly tight and hot around his spike, but he heard no sound of pain from the Air Commander, nor did his field betrayed any sign of discomfort, so Silverbolt allowed himself to feel the pleasure to be in that slick, tight channel, feel the callipers try to cycle around his length, feel Starscream’s inner trembling massage him…

Silverbolt moaned deeply as he slid home and ex-vented his own hot air, holding onto the cherry red plates in his servos, arresting any movement Starscream might have wanted to make. It was his own way of showing to the Seeker who was in control, by making him unable to move underneath his bulk. Rolling his hips he pulled halfway out from the undulating, slowly loosening valve, one servo sliding up on the white wings, further up to the shoulder vents and he anchored himself there, pulling the slighter frame back onto his spike.

The first moans from Starscream were mixed with dissatisfied, grumbling growls, his own servos clawing into the soft ground, taking out his anger on the ground, in the only way he could. His field roiled with _pleasure/embarrassment/lust/humiliation_ as the emotions changing fast with his moods. Tightening his valve and lavishing delicious friction on the slowly moving spike, he elicited some moans from Silverbolt as well. 

The thrusts sped up as he felt his charge growing and the valve around him accommodating his spike easily. Silverbolt never thought that dominating the smaller Seeker would be such a turn-on, that he could find such pleasure in an act that was more or less rape… or near so. After all, his hazy processor supplied, neither of them would choose the other as a partner. But his Seeker coding was making it feel natural, making him enjoy the physical pleasure in the act… and it was enough to silence his conscience that still opposed the whole ritual.

The force of his thrusts pushed the smaller frame forward, but his servo on those red shoulders stopped him and pulled back for most contact between them. Friction was making their equipment heat up until the valve felt like a furnace and his vents roar with the effort to cool his frame. Starscream on the other servo fell unusually silent at some point, but Silverbolt only noticed it after he shouted with the last thrust, grinding his pelvic plates onto the scratched and smeared red aft and flooding his valve with transfluid in his release.

It was… somewhat anticlimactic to not to hear Starscream’s ecstatic yell and feel no release in his suddenly tightly drawn field but Silverbolt needed a breem before he could focus on it and wonder about the reason. Withdrawing slowly, he nearly flushed pink in embarrassment, seeing their mixed fluids spill out and drip down on the white thighs. 

Starscream snapped shut his panel nearly as soon as he was out, surprising him at the speed of the reaction and the perceivable lack of climax in the smaller Seeker. He wriggled out from underneath Silverbolt, pushing his servos off of his wings like they burned and stepped away, still staying uncharacteristically silent. Silverbolt nearly stumbled at the sudden loss of support coupled with his own near-strutless overload haze. He’d known that Starscream was not enjoying the situation, that much was clear from the beginning, but he didn’t exactly expect it to end this way.

Before he could speak anything though, Starscream gave him a barely there, imperceptible and terse nod and the three Seekers transformed and took off, speeding away in the clear air with their best speeds. Silverbolt turned hesitantly and glanced at his team with a slightly questioning, uncomprehending expression. They all stood up and were just about to move beside him and the sudden departure of the Decepticon Seekers surprised them as well.

Just like it did to the two observing officers really. It was unlike Starscream to run away from any situation that wasn’t life-threatening and to do so without a single word was nearly unheard of. The Aerialbots milled around for a few more kliks on the clearing before Silverbolt ordered them to go as well – the Concord’s voice was still bemused. 

_“So, Prowler… whaddaya think? They win and Screamer frags Bolt; we win and Bolt frags Screamer. I guess ya can spot the connection.”_

_“Indeed.”_ – Prowl watched the Aerialbots mill hesitantly in the middle of the clearing before taking off into the clear skies – _“As illogical as I find this whole thing, it seems to be along those lines.”_

_“Question is: why did Bolt agree ta it?”_

_“A very good question, Jazz. Unfortunately I haven't yet got the answer.”_

They extricated themselves from the thicket and started back to the Ark.

“Shudda confront them now?”

Prowl was quiet for a few kliks as they swept along the highway, his battle computer scrunching up the facts and came up with scenarios that could have wildly diverging results, absentmindedly weaving around the human traffic. 

“No.” – he said at the end – “Not yet. But let’s see what happens if we keep them from a battle.”

“Nothing…?” – Jazz’s voice was quizzical. Usually he could follow Prowl’s reasoning, but this time the SIC seemed to have leaped ahead in the possible scenarios.

“Among the Decepticon Trines.”

“Ahh…! Ye might become a voyeur, Prowler.” – the saboteur teased his superior.

“I suggest we observe the Seekers carefully in the battle too, to be able to relate to what happens afterwards.”

“We do that anyway.”

“But we do it now with our problem in processor now.”

“Ya’re on, Prowler!”

They drove in silence for the next few breems; more or less so, discounting the music that thrummed from Jazz’s speakers, relatively quiet for him, almost contemplative. The fast - and because of the human cars challenging - drive on the highway was relaxing for all ground-bound Autobots, allowing for thinking and contemplation. Warm roads under their tyres, swift winds caressing their plates and the remarkably non-threatening, easy conditions that were uniquely Earthen and so much unlike Cybertron… they all luxuriated in the feeling as often as they could. In the end it was Jazz again who spoke up, quiet and introspective.

“Prowler… have ya ever felt an irresistible urge ta frag mechs around you? ‘Cos ya’re usually right, meaning ya… sorta win your encounters.”

He had the privilege to see Prowl skid suddenly, swerve around another car and yank himself back to his lane in an inelegant, crude move before answering. Jazz smirked inwardly. It was rare that he could surprise the unflappable SIC and he cherished every occasion.

“Jazz!” – even his voice was sputtering – “WHAT THE…?”

“Why, Ah’m just trying ta find out what makes them act so… so…”

“So illogical? And you ask ME?”

“Ah was going ta say so unique, and yes, Ah’m asking ya. Praxians are closer ta Seekers than any of us grounders.”

“I see.” – Prowl was calming down, returning to his clean and efficient driving style. He thought for a few breems trying to recall their way of life before the war, the long-lost customs and rich traditions they had in Praxus. Not that he’d forget Jazz the shock, but he was perfectly capable of putting that aside and concentrate on the other problem.

“There used to be some old clans who practiced trining younglings and they had some customs that were similar to Seekers, true. But ours was not one of these, so I never concerned myself about those.”

The police car fell silent again and Jazz waited patiently as they drove. 

“And to answer your question, no, I never had an urge to prove my superiority in quite that way.” – his voice was dry and emotionless but Jazz clearly perceived the underlying humour too.

“Good ta hear that Prowler. Good ta hear.”


	4. Starscream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got too long so I separated it into two parts. This is part one. I was in mood for writing a dominant Starscream in his Trine, as he is often described as a sub or weaker one; and this story was perfect for it.

Starscream strutted into the Command Center with a smirk that was designed especially to annoy Megatron. The smirk was immediately replaced with a scowl when he saw the slaghead talking to Thrust of all mechs while standing behind the ever-patient Soundwave at the console. They looked like the Conehead was volunteering something or at least trying to worm his way into the warlord’s favour. He couldn’t allow it.

His wings flaring aggressively, Starscream sped up his leisurely walk to stand beside the two, pushing the Conehead Trine-leader away slightly with a servo, aggressively displaying his talons. He had more right to stand closer, never mind the danger that it meant and the other Seeker knew it. Marginally lowered wings acknowledged his rank but Thrust stayed too close, encroaching… but not-quite challenging. Yet.

“Ahh, Starscream. Good to see that finally you deigned to join us.” – Megatron flared slightly his pauldrons, his voice not yet threatening, but having a warning tinge.

“I came as soon as I got the summons.” – Starscream answered in a slightly petulant, shrill tone. 

“But you didn’t think of hurrying right?” – Megatron raised his voice a bit but waved the whole thing away. He didn’t want to play the usual dance with his Second now – “Don’t bother to find an excuse. I have a mission for both of you.”

“Together??” – Starscream’s wings shot up indignantly and even Thrust looked alarmed.

“No. Both of you and your Trines. I need a comprehensive, in-depth survey of this whole miserable planet for any exploitable energy sources that doesn’t immediately bring those slagging Autobots on our necks.”

Starscream just refrained from pointing out that he’d suggested it metacycles ago and was told off as a coward who doesn’t dare to face the enemy. He didn’t need a beating just before a mission that would also be a competition with the Conehead Trine. But he did cast a disdaining glance at the other Seeker.

“Me and my Trine would be perfectly capable of carrying out this survey.” – he answered at last, superiority and complete confidence in his tone and posture. – We don’t need six more left servos.”

“Nevertheless my order stands. You Seekers are always complaining to have to stay in the Nemesis anyway. Every cycle you report your findings to Soundwave who will compile the final report to me.

Hearing the last sentence, Starscream scowled deeply. They will have to do the slagging work and that fragging telepath will reap Megatron’s approval for it. By the slightly lifting corner of his lipplates, the slagger Megatron knew it as well and arranged it intentionally. Still he would get flying and probably some fragging out of it, besides the idea being actually useful for the Decepticons - for once.

“As you wish, Lord Megatron.” – he answered in a voice just slightly rebellious – enough so that Megatron choose to overlook it.

-o-o-o-

“Skywarp!” – the voice cracked like a whip on the dark and deserted-looking corridor. 

That it wasn’t quite deserted was shown by a winged shape jumping to its pedes at the very end, tripping on something and going down again, amidst heavy cursing. Starscream sighed through his vents exasperatedly and started to move towards the fallen figure. The black and purple jet was hardly visible in the darkness of the corridor, only his red optics shone as he struggled with something and his cursing revealed his identity.

“Slagging, rusted, creation of a two-credit pleasurebot…”

“Skywarp.” – Starscream arrived beside him and looked down on the still struggling figure, that seemed to be fighting with an invisible enemy who was trying to tie him up. 

“Glitched, rusting hangglider frag you to the seventh Pit…”

“Skywarp!”

“What!?! Kinda busy here with this slagging… as you can see!”

“No, I can’t. Doesn’t really want to either. But we are departing in exactly five breems and I expect you to be there.”

Starscream left the ‘or else’ hanging in the air, turned on one thruster and started walking back on the corridor, whence he came from, not sparing a single glance more to his idiot trine-mate.

“Frag you Screamer, you caused me to be into this… slag!”

“I don’t remember touching you with a single talon.” – Starscream threw back over his shoulder, sneering.

“But you… uhh, could you… help me a bit here?”

Skywarp was seemingly cocooned by his invisible enemy and hardly able to move. His red optics stared after Starscream in silent pleading. Thundercracker was the last resort this time, the blue Seeker was still sulking after Starscream dressed him down during the last formation practice and snapped at him too when he tried to cajole him into the prank on the cassettes. Which now went all wrong and the slagging, nearly invisible fishing line that he acquired to entrap the cassette twins was now firmly settled around him, going deep into his joints too. Its strength was surprising for a human-made thing and Skywarp couldn’t transport out of something that was basically inside his plating. 

Starscream stopped at the end of the corridor and shook his helm exasperatedly. He was surrounded by idiots.

“It isn’t heat-resistant, you know?”

“Uhh… I… don’t have a laser on me…”

“You can regulate your temperature you idiot!” – Starscream still hasn’t turned back, but he nodded his helm to one side contemplative – “You can still do that, right?”

“I… uhhh… I think so…?”

Skywarp had to raise his internal temperature by several degrees, before he felt the line go softer and he could snap it in enough places to stand up and shed the rest. Some melted into his joints and it further darkened his already foul mood. Slagging Screamer made him ruin a perfect trap for those slagging cassettes and now he had no time to work out this slagging melted slag from his slagging joints before flying on whatever slagging scheme they cooked up. Slag!

He trotted up to the tower grumbling and snarling, with only a side-trip to grab a cube in the common room to top his tank up. Screamer’s flying missions usually required them to be in top shape. Once there, his dark mood was fouled even further when he saw the slagging Coneheads stand there too, beside the impatient Starscream and the dour Thundercracker. It was going to be just a fantastic mission, Skywarp felt for sure. He accepted the mission briefing packet, along with Starscream’s warning to behave and work on it like all of them… and grumblingly acknowledged it.

Starscream looked over the Seekers present, scowled at Thrust and flared his wings to signal the challenge, at Skywarp to warn the idiot to behave and at Thundercracker to snap out of his pitiful sulking.

“Seekers scramble!”

The packet contained the division of the surface among them so neat that it had to be Soundwave’s work. They all had precisely the same area to cover and research for available and exploitable energy sources. Only… Skywarp didn’t care. He was angry and sulking and enjoying a joyflight far too much to care about scanners and their signals. Besides Screamer could eat slag for that stunt he pulled as far as the black Seeker was concerned.

-o-o-o-

At the end of the cycle it was one very unhappy, another completely fed up and a murderously angry Seeker dragging their thrusters back to the Nemesis. Starscream was near to exploding in rage and only waited with it until they got into the relative privacy of their quarters. Skywarp was trying to look nonchalant, but failing every breem and his smirk broke through. Not even the slight smacks on his helm, courtesy of Thundercracker helped a lot.

Starscream stormed into the room like a category five tornado, hurling the datapad in his servo into the wall, where it neatly exploded into shards and fragment. Even Skywarp folded back his wings a bit at the sudden display of anger. Thundercracker was inching towards the door they just came in.

“Screamer…?” – Skywarp never learned.

“Slag you to the nether Pit, you glitched drone!” – Skywarp screamed back at him at the top of his considerable vocal range and the other two Seekers flinched hard. Even the Coneheads next door twitched in the midst of their satisfied celebration of that cycle’s job well done. The Air Commander stormed up to Skywarp, pushing the black flier backwards, into the wall, with both servos. He looked murderously angry and Skywarp suddenly lost his smirk and started to feel the first twinges of fear.

“It’s surely not that bad…” – Thundercracker, like always, tried to smooth out the disagreement. But there was no smoothing out an erupting volcano…

“That empty-helmed mate of yours deleted the whole cycle’s worth of survey results!” – Starscream marginally lowered his voice, so as not to give the surely eavesdropping slagging Coneheads any more reason to gloat over.

“We can compile it from memory… well, mostly.”

“It’s not that important anyway…” – Skywarp truly never, ever learned when to stay quiet – “The whole recon mission was all boring as the Pit.” 

“Because you never bothered to watch your sensors!”

“I did… sometimes.”

Starscream leaned over Skywarp with wings flared around him and suddenly he towered over the otherwise taller black Seeker. Skywarp finally had the common sense to fold his wings down and shrink back from his truly and fully enraged Trine-leader. Frame language has always meant more to him than simple words. Starscream suddenly grabbed a quivering black wingtip and twisted it ruthlessly.

Skywarp yelped loudly but he made no move to free his abused wing. He cowered back from Starscream, trying to make himself look smaller and finally remembered to shut up. The Air Commander stood over him with pedes apart, talons out and piercing metal and wings framing him in a deadly display, his servo slowly twisting the wingtip until the black Seeker was forced down. 

“Uhh… Starscream…?”

Thundercracker was approaching them hesitantly, not really wanting to get into it, but unwilling to leave Skywarp alone in trouble. Another blue hand shot out and Thundercracker was yanked down violently beside his trine-mate, the grip on his shoulder vent strong and unyielding, denting the metal painfully.

He could have fought back… but Starscream in this mood, in his dominant state was a Starscream to be feared and the blue Seeker never wanted to repeat their ranking fight. He’d barely survived it, so he of all mechs knew just how deceptively smaller and weaker Starscream looked than most, if not all Seekers. Emphasis on deceptively. The tricoloured Seeker perfected his fighting style that not only compensated for his comparatively smaller size but made him a threat to be feared and respected.

So Thundercracker knelt beside the oddly silent and fearful Skywarp while his wingtip was given the same treatment as his… and endured it. Starscream spun him around, to face the wall and pushed him forward harshly to lean on the wall. The servo left his wingtip finally and slid down on the edge, making Thundercracker shiver in anticipation.

“Who is your Trine-leader, Thundercracker?”

The question was delivered in a deceptively mild, normal tone but the blue Seeker trembled again, especially when the red pelvic plating clanged strongly on his aft. He hurriedly opened his panel and answered as submissively as he could.

“You, Air Commander!”

The blunt tip of a spike nudged his entrance as the next question came. Starscream’s voice betrayed no arousal, no lust, only a quiet, frightening strength with underlying steel in it.

“Whom do you have to obey, Thundercracker?”

“You, Air CommanDER!”

Thundercracker yelped the last glyphs as Starscream rammed into his valve hard, without any preparations. The stretch and the slight burn set off his valve sensors in a painful way, but as he adjusted and started to lubricate the friction made it pleasurable as well. The tricoloured Seeker set a fast and nearly brutal tempo, pulling his trine-mate backwards by the talons of one servo hooked into the wing-hinge, drawing small drops of energon from there.

He never for a nanoklik released the silently cowering Skywarp’s crushed wingtip from his other servo and his voice betrayed only the slightest tinge of his own rising charge.

“Whom do you owe your loyalty first, Thundercracker?”

“Y-you, Air C-commander!”

Thundercracker’s voice was becoming ragged from the pain-tinged pleasure as he shouted his answer. 

“Are you sure that it is not Skywarp, Thundercracker?” – he gave a particularly vicious twist to the black wingtip that had Skywarp yelp quietly. – “Should I step down and let him be the trine leader?”

“No, Starscream, it is you! Only you!” 

“Good. Keep it that way Thundercracker.”

“I will, S-starscreaaaa… aaaahhhh…!” 

The hard and fast fragging drew to a close with Starscream roaring his release into the quiet of the room while Thundercracker writhed underneath in his own overload. The blue Seeker fell forward strutlessly, the mental stress and the overload together robbing him of his strength to stay upwards. Starscream collected himself far faster and left him to lie there, stepping over the limp blue legs to stand over Skywarp. 

The prankster was silent and fearful, knowing what would come after going a step too far and pissing off Starscream. Too bad he didn’t think of it before, but then Skywarp wasn’t much a mech for forethoughts. The servo on his wingtip was like a steel vice yanking him forward. The black Seeker scuttled as indicated, not wanting to loose the wing if he didn’t comply. Screamer did that only once but he had no wish to repeat the experience.

“S-s-sorry, Star…”

“Keep your babbling for yourself.” – Starscream snarled at him.

The spent spike bumped to his lipplates, messy with their mixed fluids, thick transfluid still dripping slowly from the tip. Skywarp licked along it obediently, trying to look meek and submissive, as he knew that Starscream was after that. His spike slowly hardened again and the painful grip on his wing that never relented yanked him even closer. Thundercracker just started to stir beside them but neither of them paid much attention to him. 

Skywarp opened his mouth and took the red-blue spike in, glossa still dutifully licking it. He wished if Starscream let his poor crushed wingtip from his servo – if he did, Skywarp might even find the whole thing pleasurable. Unfortunately, he didn’t and it was Starscream’s other servo that grabbed the back of his helm and started to dictate his movements, pushing his spike deep into his mouth, down his intakes. 

Skywarp kept up his ministrations, expertly rippling his intakes around Starscream’s swollen spike and was rewarded by a low moan from his Trine-leader. The tempo sped up again as Starscream remembered that he was punishing Skywarp, the spike ramming into his mouth faster and harder again before the servo tightened at the back of his helm, squeezing the black helm to his pelvic plates and with the last, convulsive thrust he released the hot stream of transfluid down his intakes.

Skywarp very nearly made the mistake of releasing his aching spike… but he was so charged up, so hung and needy that he couldn’t think. He sucked and licked Starscream’s spike nearly mindlessly, cleaning it and arousing him again in an unconscious effort to have his Trine-leader frag him properly at last so he could overload… 

“Do you perhaps know better than me what’s good for the Trine, Skywarp?”

Starscream’s voice was hardly even tinged with the breathless quality of his overload. He recovered fast from the interface, not yet stopping the black Seeker from his ministrations.

“Uhhh… n-no, Starscream, of course I d-don’t…”

“Do you perhaps know better than Lord Megatron what missions are useful for the Decepticon army, Skywarp?”

He saw the flash of fear in the red optics before Skywarp answered.

“N-no… I don’t…” – he shook his helm in negation, stressing his answer, but the spike demanded further attention.

“Do you perhaps want to challenge me for the Trine, Skywarp?”

“NO, I DON’T, STARSCREAM!”

Skywarp yelled in fright, unable to take any more of the stress. Thundercracker was online fully by this time but the blue Seeker made no move whatsoever, not even to close his messy interface panel. Normally, he’d try to intervene, but only a fool would stand between an enraged Starscream and the subject of his discipline.

“Then do as I say, and DON’T YOU EVER QUESTION ME OR SABOTAGE OUR WORK, Skywarp, understood?”

“Yes, Air Commander Starscream, loud and clear!”

It was a true measure of his fear that Skywarp reverted to the answer green-behind the vents cadets used to give to particularly nasty instructors back in the War Academy. Starscream just nodded, removed his stiff spike from his lipplates, turned him around and pushed him to the wall. Skywarp snapped his panel open quickly, more than ready for a good, hard frag, lubricating copiously already.

Starscream made short work of the black Seeker, slamming his spike into the ready valve hard and fast, nearly ruthlessly. It could have hurt, Skywarp knew, could have hurt far more, which must mean that Starscream’s anger and his drive to dominate, to show them their places were nearly assuaged. As he was pushed faceplates first into the wall, Skywarp admitted to himself that he’d deserved the lesson, that he’d truly gone too far by ruining the Trine’s whole work. 

Starscream came hard in his valve and Skywarp’s thoughts scattered as he, too overloaded finally at the feel of hot transfluid rushing to set off his innermost sensors. He yelled loud, missing Starscream’s louder and higher keening. The blue servos finally let his wingtip go and the flood of the data from there, the agony of the crushed sensors wiped his overload quickly.

Starscream pushed the writhing black frame into the silent and unmoving blue one and stood over them, servos on his hips, wings flared again, but in a less angry cant than before. His voice was calm enough but Thundercracker prayed so he wouldn’t work himself up to a fit again – Starscream was liable to do that just from his own voice.

“Tomorrow, I expect you, Skywarp to fly all the area that you deleted the data from. Thundercracker, you will do the data analysis from what he collects as well as today’s.”

They both nodded meekly and obediently, not daring to complain for the extra work, not even with a grimace.

“I won’t have the farking Coneheads get the better of us!”

Starscream shouted at their faceplates dangerously and the two Seekers would have backed further had they got any more space to move to. As it was they were already flat against the wall.

“W-we won’t let you down, Starscream!”

Thundercracker tried to put conviction into his voice and Skywarp, still mute in fear, nodded fervently beside him. 

“I hope so. I very much hope so...”

Starscream sounded even more threatening when he didn’t screech at them.


	5. Thrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the chapter that started out as one, just got too long for it.

The next orn Megatron had a fleeting thought before the Seekers departed, that something was definitely unusual with… well, with all of them. Thrust was smug, far more so than the tyrant has ever seen him in Starscream’s company, along with his Trine, smirking at the Air Commander like it was usually the other way round. But that wasn’t the strangest sight, no. That prize went to a subdued, fearful and obedient Skywarp, who was meekly following his trine-mates and not even flicking a wingtip out of line. Megatron would have loved to see how Starscream managed _that_ ; he wanted to use the method himself to stop the teleporter sometimes from overdone pranking sprees.

But before he could say a word, Starscream gave the order and the Seekers took off for their mission. Megatron scowled darkly after them, tucking the matter into the back of his processor for later research. He had better things to do momentarily than dealing with queer Seekers…. especially as Seekers were by definition queer all the time. To him at least. 

The Seekers flew in the ages-old formation that was older than Vos, older than any of them; Trine leader in the middle, slightly ahead of them, Thundercracker on his right, while Skywarp on the left, wavering between keeping his precise place in the formation and drifting away in his wish to be farther from the still irate Starscream. The Trine’s comm link was strangely silent too, the normally chattering Skywarp subdued, quiet and afraid to enrage his wing-leader again. The only words exchanged were Thundercracker’s low, murmured directions, reciting their course and giving Skywarp his own directive; and the teleporter’s nearly whispered affirmatives. 

Starscream steadfastly ignored them both, focusing on his own course and the scanners. He paid no visible attention to Skywarp even when the black Seeker disappeared to do his assigned task and scan the previous orn’s area. But Thundercracker knew his Trine leader well and he was sure that Starscream knew where Skywarp was, down to the last mechanometer. He had warned Warp not to follow any of his impulsive ideas, not to leave the assigned task and hoped that his mischievous mate would listen to him for once. He didn’t want the repeat of last orn, he didn’t want the Coneheads to win and he definitely didn’t want Starscream taking it out on them afterwards as he was wont to do. 

He needn’t have to worry though. Skywarp for the time being was cowed into obedience, rare that that was with the teleporting Seeker and flew his assigned route with a concentration nearly unheard of from him. The stream of data nearly staggered the blue Seeker who had to divide his attention between his current task and the logging of the extra information. There was no hope for Starscream going easy on him either, not the ice-cold way his trine-leader still acted. 

It all resulted the three of them working so seamlessly and efficiently that secretly surprised even Starscream and would surely shock Megatron too, had the tyrant known about it. Data streamed among them continuously and flying was nearly perfect; and after a few joors even Starscream thawed out a bit and instead of the barked, terse orders gave them the directions in a far more calm voice, making both his mates vent a little bit easier. Of course he should have known that it wouldn’t last.

“Hey, Screamer? Ready for a little _action_?” 

The trine channel erupted suddenly, after being silent for the last few joors, nearing the end of the shift, the end of the mission. Thrust’s insufferable voice wasn’t the least welcomed in the concentration and devotion they all worked with lately and his lewd intonation of the last word left little to imagination as to what he meant. The Coneheads were so far ahead in the task after the disastrous last orn that they were sure – and Thundercracker nearly so – that they would win this round.

Thundercracker was painfully aware that it would be the first time ever that Thrust could top Starscream and even more painfully sure how their trine-leader would take it out on them. Especially as it would be their fault; mainly Skywarp’s who wisely kept silent still, but his own too for overlooking and silently encouraging the prankster. He wobbled slightly in the air, the first time this orn to make any sort of a mistake, and firmly shut his vocalizer so he wouldn’t say anything either.

“Hey? Are you all deaf?” – Thrust was insistent and visibly gloating – “Be ready for the frag of a…”

“Shut your vocalizer Thrust before I tear it out.” – Thundercracker shuddered, hearing the tone Starscream used. It was the same as last dark cycle, the calm, cold and frightening one Starscream rarely if ever used, promising much pain to come. He wondered for a klik how he’d react to it in the Conehead Trine-leader’s place before he heard Thrust’s mocking laughter. 

“Don’t be so negative, _Screamer_ …”

Thundercracker heard Ramjet’s coarse laughter joining his trine-leader in the background. Dirge stayed silent, only an indeterminate sound came from his vocalizer. 

“I am still your Air Commander, you idiot, do I have to remind you that?”

That was a far more familiar screech from Starscream, probably riled up by the ridiculing mirth from the Coneheads.

“Suuure, Screamer… keep your pride until the end of the orn!”

“Like the glitch has any…” – Ramjet was more than rude as usual and believing that this time he could get away with it.

“Thrust. If you can’t keep your Trine in servo… I will. Now, get off the line!” – Starscream bit off the rest and forcibly blocked the Coneheads out of the channel. – “Thundercracker, Skywarp. I don’t have to mention again what would happen if you can’t make up for last orn’s blunder?”

“N-no, Starscream!”

“Of course not!” – Skywarp yelped fearfully, the words being the first that left his vocalizer that orn. They both redoubled their efforts, ignoring the Coneheads and secretly hoping that in their overconfidence they would be slack in this orn’s work. 

It was still a very tense orn to go through and Thundercracker didn’t wish it to be repeated any time soon. By the time they landed, he was sore, exhausted and nearly depleted – but they still had to stay around until Soundwave finished the evaluation and the… activities afterward. Skywarp wasn’t any better either. The teleporter nearly stumbled into a bulkhead in his tiredness and hasn’t spoken a word since they landed – it was so unusual that the blue Seeker saw even Soundwave stare at them disconcertingly, suspicious of their unusual behaviour. 

They trudged to the rec room, desperate to get their rations, trailing behind the silently fuming Starscream. Collecting their cubes, Thundercracker carried them all to the table where the other two sat down and for the first time, he noted how tired Starscream too was. He tried to hide of course, but his wings lacked any of their usual ostentatious flaring and hung limply behind his slightly slumped frame and the red of his optics wasn’t very bright either. Of course… he worked hard both orns, first because he actually found the task useful and wanted to impress Megatron… then just to avoid losing. Because of them. Thundercracker swallowed a gulp uneasily.

He couldn't dare to hope. Nope. They did everything they could but the handicap was just too much from the first orn. If the Coneheads just worked normally, then there was no way of regaining the victory. He didn’t dare to look at Starscream again, feeling instinctly that the same things circled in his processor too, coupled with what Thrust would do with him, once given the opportunity. The victor of any contest had a nearly free servo in what he could do, barring deactivation, and the Conehead had a few millenias’ worth of grievances against Starscream, always winning so far.

“Starscream!” – the angry bark of their leader echoed in their comm after barely a joor of sitting there, waiting for the inevitable – “To the Command Center, now!”

Starscream seemed to fold in on himself before he collected his wits and hitching up his wings stood to leave. Thundercracker didn’t dare to move and even Skywarp shut up wisely.

“Doesn’t sound very promising, Air Commander, now, does it?” – Thrust’s smug voice and cackle grated on their audials more than they’d ever admit – “I’ll be seeing you in two cycles, at the usual place.” – he paused for a klik, apparently just realizing something – “Umm, if Lord Megatron leaves you intact enough to drag your wings there, that is.”

Thundercracker froze. Oh slag. He too had forgotten that part being a very real possibility. If Starscream was injured enough not to be able to fly, then it fell to him as wing-second… slag, slag, slag… Starscream was completely capable, not to mention likely to anger their leader enough to be beaten to slag and this was an occasion, he might just preferred it over the alternative. In the mood he was with both of them… Thundercracker cast a suddenly angry glance at Skywarp, the teleporter too frozen into the movement of lifting a cube to his lipplates, his wings slowly lowering behind him automatically as he too saw through the situation.

By the time Starscream stood up, there was no sign of his feelings or tiredness on his frame or faceplates. He was every bit the picture of the obnoxious Air Commander he’d always been… on the outside. Inside, that was nomech’s business. Not even Thundercracker could tell what he was thinking as he turned to leave, not until he leaned over the Conehead sitting at the next table ominously, hissing into the mech’s audials while grabbing a wingtip in a vice-like grip and yanking the jet around, to face him.

“I’ll be there Thrust, you can be sure of it. If I have to crawl there, I will. Because even without wings I am your better.”

He turned on one heel suddenly, pushing away the wing in his servo like discarding a piece of rubbish and left the common room with the air of a tornado. Thundercracker nearly felt like smiling at the Conehead’s comically frightened expression before he realized that Starscream’s display would probably change nothing. Nevertheless, he could always trust Starscream to behave unexpectedly and turn any given scenario to his advantage. He hoped that it was enough. 

-o-o-o-

They flew in the customary formation, both of them casting surreptitious glances at Starscream’s still pristine, intact plating. When the Air Commander came back from the command center, they could get nothing out of him, not a single word or gesture to clear their confusion. Because they were confused, by Starscream actually not provoking Megatron into scrapping him, therefore staying unharmed and able to do his duty as tradition demanded. Thundercracker would never admit it, but he was mightily glad that he didn’t have to take his trine-leader’s place but he still didn’t understand what was going on. 

Not until they landed on the clearing, no. But there, the Conehead’s infuriated expressions and Thrust’s suddenly fearful faceplates told him that they’ve achieved the near impossible after all. How, he wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t question their fortunes. As they stood in attention behind Starscream, Thundercracker saw from the corner of his optics, that Skywarp too pricked up his wings proudly as he deduced the situation. 

“Not so talkative now, right, Thrust?” – Starscream still used that frighteningly calm, collected tone.

“Y-you must have cheated! Bribed Soundwave! Something!” – Thrust was nearly frantic and his accusations were laughable really. Bribe Soundwave? Fat chance, the Conehead was welcome to try if he believed it to be possible. 

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with? How about being overconfident and unable to hold onto a lead you never deserved in the first place?”

Thundercracker held back Skywarp from commenting by nearly literally strangling his putting-pede-in-his-mouth trinemate behind Starscream’s back before he could say anything that would direct their trine-leader’s wrath towards them. For now, he remained unmoved by the frustrated-betrayed look that the teleporter was giving him. He liked Starscream angry at the Coneheads, thank you Skywarp very much, and he deliberately ignored the strange look that Dirge gave to them.

“We were better! We did more! It should be _me_!”

Thrust didn’t give up that easily. To see a win slip out of his servos at the last klik, or maybe afterwards even was too much for his pride. Traditions and coding did allow debating the winner and he looked determined that he’d do it for all he was worth. 

“It _is_ you, Thrust. Down on your knees and under me - where you belong.”

Starscream wasn’t interested in going easy on the fragging Conehead, not after the glitch gloated over their perceived win all orn and Thundercracker cheered him on silently. 

“Slagger! – Thrust snarled in rising fury – “You cheated!”

“I most certainly did not. Can you prove anything? I thought not. I can handle my Trine, unlike you.” – Starscream scowled and Thundercracker’s so far proudly flaring wings suddenly dropped down and folded behind him and he ducked his helm – “I can make them work to make up for their _mistakes_ , while you foolishly joined yours in a premature celebration.”

Thrust could only gawp wordlessly at that and felt his coding accept the way matters stood. He yelped slightly as his trine-mates withdrew hurriedly, leaving him the sole focus of the irate Starscream. Thundercracker yanked Skywarp with him in the same thing, leaving the trine-leaders alone in the middle of the clearing. Starscream dominated the scene, there was no doubt about it, white wings quivering proudly as high as they could go and Thrust couldn’t fight against it any more. 

With a frightened keen, the red-gray jet fell to his knees and Starscream was onto him before the knee-joints even touched the ground. He was neither slow nor careful this time, and Thrust’s wings got grabbed in a strong grip, eliciting another yelp from him. Impatient clanging forced him to open his panel quickly and Starscream waited not a single klik to thrust into him roughly. It took him a breem but finally the Conehead realized the spectacle he was making of himself and the subconscious comparison springing up in the onlookers’ processors with the young Autobot flier, who submitted to Starscream without making such racket and he shut up. 

“Finally.” – Starscream growled out while he rammed into the other Seeker forcefully – “I was tempted to think you were a femme the way you squealed.”

Thrust clamped his mouth shut, muted his vocalizer in embarrassment and refused to look at Starscream’s trine-mates with their surely gloating expressions and Skywarp’s unabashed lust. It hurt of course, he’d known that it would, after riling up Starscream of all mechs… but he was so sure of their win! Thrust lamented inwardly, when Frenzy told them what Skywarp did he was absolutely, one hundred per cent sure that there was no way they could make up that kind of a disadvantage. Could the fragging cassette lie to them, despite of the bribe? Or was Starscream truly capable of whipping his Trine into line and work down their handicap? 

He didn’t know, but it was a moot point really by this time. Thrust dropped his helm and shook slightly as Starscream pounded into him relentlessly, the slagger drawing it out for as long as he could withhold his overload. The slight discomfort in his valve grew until it was a burn, the Air Commander’s spike abrading the barely lubricated walls with his deliberately rough strokes and he couldn’t help a slight hiss escaping his vocalizer. Ohh, he tried to relax, tried to make it go easier; Thrust was familiar with being the bottom and having riled up dominants on his back. 

But it never got easier really, not even afterwards when he had to reclaim his pride and frag the mouthy Ramjet and the rarely rebelling Dirge. A particularly vicious thrust pushed him forward, loosing his balance and landing on the ground with his helm, faceplates ground into it by Starscream, who happily used the new angle to his advantage. The spike rammed into his deepest sensory node and Thrust keened inwardly, calipers tightening reflexively around the invading spike. It pushed Starscream over the edge fortunately and with a yell his valve was flooded with rushing transfluid, the blue servos crushing up his wingtips painfully. It was over.

He felt being pushed forward, Starscream pulling out immediately as he finished. There was no afterglow, no momentary pause, nothing – it was just the Air Commander proving his dominance over his subordinate, made worse by the particulars of their losing. Thrust shook himself to get some feel back into his legs and stood with some difficulty. There were no helping servos offered either and he suddenly envied the youngling Aerialbot leader. He received more of Starscream’s mercy than Thrust himself ever got and the glitch hasn’t even realized it. 

Thrust of course never contemplated that it had a reason and that reason stemmed from the differences between his and Silverbolt’s attitudes. He was only interested in blaming someone for his humiliation and the growing discomfort as they transformed and flew away, leaving the ground to the Elite Trine as the tradition demanded.

They weren't dallying either and all three Seekers were preparing to leave, when Skywarp suddenly teleported to the other side of the clearing without any warnings, scaring the wildlife in the nearby bushes. Grinning widely, he picked up a piece of metal, showing it up like it was a grand prize, posing like a victorious warrior. Thundercracker sighed in exasperation. The whole lesson thing lasted for what... an orn and a half to their idiot trine-mate before he reverted to his usual, inane self? 

Starscream was about to yell at him to come when the black Seeker slowly nodded his helm to the side and the grin gave way to an intent expression. He turned towards the edge of the depression like the birds suddenly caught his attention. He took a step towards the strangely shaking bushes and caught sight of something metallic - where nothing such could be. It was...

"SKYWARP!" - Starscream's voice held a barely veiled threat and Skywarp hurriedly left his discovery to join his mates in taking off. But he did cast a look back from above where the undergrowth couldn't hide the sight. Yeah, he was right. Screamer would be interested to hear that they had audience. Later. When he wasn't so torqued off.


	6. Silverbolt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave the whole fic its title, the situation an anon commenter described in the original thread.

The battlefield was a veritable chaos after a few joors. Neither side could gain an upper servo; the Decepticons just entrenched themselves among the ruins of the power-plant and took potshots of the Autobots trying to approach them in the field that offered no cover whatsoever. After Sideswipe was sent back to Ratchet with a nasty and dangerous wound that nearly ruptured his spark-chamber, the Prime forbade any further attempts at a frontal assault. Prowl worked furiously to find a way to turn the battle to their advantage but so far he found no scenario with sufficiently high odds for victory and the least casualties.

It was much the same overhead too, where the Command Trine and the Aerialbots swept over the ground troops, attempting to support them, but got engaged by their counterparts and forced to retreat time and time again. The Decepticons Seekers successfully kept Superion from forming which frustrated Silverbolt to no end, but at least they had shot down the irritating madmech, Ramjet, before he could cause serious damage to Fireflight. Then suddenly there was a loud and pleased shouting in the comm and Silverbolt turned his sensors to watch the black Seeker disappear in a flash of purple, leaving some billowing, dark smoke behind – and Skydive swooping through the air victoriously. 

The smoking, falling Seeker appeared some distance from them and his loud cursing could be heard all over the battlefield. Air Raid whooped in the gestalt link loudly, but his laughter turned pained when Thundercracker rattled him with a sonic boom and streaked among them to get to his fallen trine-mate. He was better at covering his afterburners too, the missile he released found Slingshot just as the brash jet tried to target him. The explosion was loud and in its wake they could only see their brother loosing altitude, leaking energon fast and making his limping way towards the back lines, where Ratchet worked feverishly on their injured. Silverbolt got the blue Seeker though, his well-placed fire forcing the blue jet down with his black partner. 

In the commotion, they all forgot the Air Commander and it was a grave mistake, Silverbolt realized when Starscream calmly and ruthlessly shot down Fireflight and the frantically trying to escape but not quite fast enough Skydive. It took every ounce of Silverbolt’s calm to keep his head at the twin screams of pain as his brothers fell. He pursued the smugly rising Starscream, herding the faster flier away from his fallen brothers, deep down knowing that the Seeker was not that keen on staying around to finish them either.

Air Raid shouted obscenities into the comm link the Decepticon Seekers too heard but there was no answer; Starscream unlike his loud screeching in general was surprisingly quiet. Silverbolt tentatively entertained the idea that he was worried about his trine-mates but then quickly dismissed the idea. They were Decepticons. They wouldn’t care about each other the way the Aerialbots did. Right?

“Silverbolt, I order you to come back and not engage the enemy.” – Prowl’s calm voice intruded into his musings and Air Raid was spluttering at the order. – “The Decepticons have aerial reinforcements on the way while you are down to two.”

“Acknowledged.” – Silverbolt wasn’t happy at it but he saw that Prowl was right and his distance sensors showed three large blips approaching. Not even Seekers but probably the triple-changers. Superion could fight with them but not the two of them and definitely not with Starscream still around, hunting them. – “Raid, it is an order. Retreat now!”

They flew back and observed the battlefield; while they were engaged in the air, the ground situation shifted a bit to the Autobots’ favour, forcing the Cons out of their cover and into a retreat. They had collected a lot of energon though, so it wasn’t as though they were losing. Still, it was just a matter of time before Megatron would give them the order…

“Decepticons retreat!”

There it was. The Decepticon leader pushed Optimus Prime away, his roar audible all over the battlefield, echoed by an enraged screech from above, courtesy of Starscream.

“We could have won, you afthelm!”

“Starscream! I suggest to shut up if you want to retain your glitching vocalizer!”

“Ohh, go retreat with your tail between…ack!”

The low flying Seeker was basically swatted away by Megatron like a cyberfly, the Seeker madly rolling and trying to regain his altitude to avoid a painful crash, amidst chuckles and outright laughter from both sides. He just managed it and once again attaining enough altitude to be out of his reach he cursed Megatron yet again, drawing the tyrant’s attention to himself while the barely hobbling Thundercracker was safely far enough with the smoking and offline Skywarp.

Then he glanced at Silverbolt, the wordless ping in the open comm serving for a nudge at the Aerialbot who was circling over their forces, reassured that his brothers were not seriously injured, just unable to fly for awhile. Silverbolt pinged back and turned his nosecone towards the place he came to loathe but unable to avoid. His coding though was in a complete turmoil, unable to settle as he flew and Silverbolt wondered. Who the frag has won this battle?

Jazz cast a similarly meaningful glance at Prowl, the tactician also noting the fliers’ behaviour and nodding back. He wrapped up the rest of the battle and signalled Jazz to sneak away and follow the jets. It wasn’t hard this time, all three of them who remained in action were slower than usual, probably tired and depleted from the long battle and smaller injuries littering all their frames.

They still arrived before the two cars and the officers were greeted by a rare sight, the three fliers facing off in a small circle, all of them, even calm Silverbolt shouting at each other’s faceplates, wings quivering behind their backs, turbines growling to underline their words. It was queer to see them all so… Seekerlike, Prowl supposed was the expression, so aggressive and trying to dominate the others by presence and volume. 

In size, it was obviously Silverbolt, who had the advantage, but Starscream more than made up for it in sheer volume from his impressive vocalizer. Even with Air Raid’s loudly voiced support, Silverbolt teetered on stepping back from the Seeker’s anger, giving him the space, thereby acknowledging him as superior. But he collected himself and stood his ground.

“You were called to retreat!” – Air Raid yelled at Starscream’s faceplates, displaying impressive courage.

“It was you who retreated first!” – Starscream screeched in his top volume, making all listeners wince.

“But the Autobots won the battle.” – Silverbolt was only marginally calmer than Air Raid, an unusual thing in itself; the big flier was not only arguing his case, but worried still about his absent brothers. – “And you lost both your Trine-mates, leaving you the only one able to fly. It shows clearly who won, in my opinion.”

“Yeah, right!” – Air Raid agreed loudly before Starscream could retaliate verbally.

“And you lost three of your Trin… gestalt, which is more than the two I have injured. So who lost? I say it’s you!” 

“But we say differently and we are two, facing you alone!”

“You don’t count.” – the casual dismissal of Air Raid stung the young flier and he could only splutter angrily before Starscream continued – “Have you ever seen Skywarp arguing beside me? No? That’s because it is between me and your gestalt-leader as neither wing-second is present.”

::Raid, he is right. Stay out of it, please.::

::But he’s… he plays dirty!::

::I know. I’ll try my best.::

Air Raid was visibly fuming but he took two steps backward, removing himself from the argument. However right it felt, it was still a score going to the Seeker, looking smug for a nanoklik before resuming his posturing and focusing on Silverbolt. 

“As I said you lost more of your gestalt than me from my Trine.”

“I… but that’s…”

“Is it not true?”

“Well… in a way… but we achieved more…”

“No changing the subject please. Have you lost three?”

“Umm… yes…”

“Have I lost two?”

“B-but…” – Silverbolt whispered, feeling the breath of defeat – “…yeah.”

“So, other factors equating, is it not a deciding one?”

Starscream’s tone was triumphant as he hammered the Aerialbot with his interpretation of the events, not letting the younger, less aggressively spoken jet think and find the holes in his arguments. Because there were some, but in the chaotic, undecided situation even their coding could not decide adequately who won – so it was all down to who got to be louder, more assertive and cunning. And in this, the young Aerial had no chance against the wily Seeker. Silverbolt wilted while Air Raid in the background fumed and cursed nastily.

“Y-yes…” the Aerialbot leader whispered again, barely audible and continued with a rare outburst of temper – “I hate this slagging coding!”

Prowl glanced at the silent Jazz, his battle computer already adding this tidbit to its formulating ideas. But Silverbolt hasn’t finished yet and the two officers heard him yelling in rare anger - but this time the ager was not directed to Starscream.

“Curse those glitching Autobots for creating us with Seeker coding! I hate it! I absolutely loathe it! Why did they do it? Why include this abomination into our core? WHY?”

The observing officers got the shock of their lives. Prowl looked alarmed and Jazz continued to stay silent, which, from him was just as telling as the shaking doorwings on Prowl’s back. So it was themselves condemning the Aerialbots to submit this perverted custom? Neither of them was around when the Aerialbots were created but nevertheless they both accepted the responsibility for it, as Autobots. Had Prowl been asked beforehand to create the fliers this way, he would have said the same. He was sure that noone at their creation knew about this little bombshell in the Seeker coding they included just like they didn’t know about it. Pit, even Skyfire knew nothing about it, and he was a flier, albeit one from Iacon, not Vos.

“You can’t just take the good things and leave the ones you don’t like out.” – Starscream’s voice became much quieter, almost contemplative and he looked… odd. It was compassion that shone in his red optics, wiped out by the next klik, replaced with the usual unreadable look. – “You want to stop being fliers?”

“NO!”

“Of course not!”

“Then you are stuck with it. Seeker coding includes this part. Want to be fliers? Then accept the domination thing too.”

“But… but what about Skyfire?”

“He has it too. Shuttles dealt with it long ago by choosing not to fight.” – he paused, nodding his helm to the side. The anger and fury of the battle was nearly gone from his posture, which still retained the dominating posture and the flaring wings – “You don’t have that option either, not after you’ve fought at least once.”

“But it’s… unfair! It’s cruel! There… must be something…”

Starscream looked drawn suddenly. He turned halfway away from Silverbolt, his faceplates jerking slightly, like in pain. His wing flexed backwards and the clawed servos tightened into fists. He nearly spat the next words.

“You think I don’t know it? You think you are the first Seeker hating to have to submit? Let me tell you a few things about Vos, Autobot.” – his voice became stronger and bitter – “While most Seekers honoured this custom and let it go smoothly, invoking it only in serious contests and introducing it to the new generations gently… there were the ones abusing it too. The ones basically hunting the young Seekers, challenging them to aerial contests, winning by their greater experience or outright cheating… and claiming the youngsters brutally.”

Silverbolt looked horrified as he was imagining the scene Starscream painted for them. Air Raid fell silent too, just like the Autobot officers spying on them. The silence on the clearing was complete for nearly a breem, seemingly even the organic life feeling the weighty matters transpiring there and staying silent.

“Have you… did you…” – Silverbolt wasn’t sure what he was asking. But Starscream knew.

“Oh yes, I was unfortunate enough to meet a few such Seekers. I was faster than them even back then… but they hunted in a pair, leaving no chance for a Seekerling barely out of his youngling frame.” – Starscream shook his wings, his faceplates hardening – “I won’t describe the rest. But you can imagine it.”

“Is there… really nothing we can do about it? I mean…”

“I tried. I was a scientist, you know that? No? Anyway, I was. During the Academy, after the last rape which nearly deactivated me, I tried to rewrite my code. I nearly managed to wipe out my whole self in the process. So… no, you can’t do anything about it. It is such integral part of our core coding that it can’t be separated.”

Silverbolt felt awful for Starscream, still half turned away, dark faceplates inscrutable. But he felt awful for himself too and it was a much more close and pressing problem.

“I still hate it…” – he whispered.

“If I could spare you, I would.” – Starscream’s voice was barely audible as he admitted it – “I’m not like those Seekers were and you are slagging too young to have this coding activated.”

“But you can’t stop it.”

“No. I can’t. I won’t lose battles just to…” – it was an admission obviously rankling Starscream greatly. That he was not fully in control of his frame, his reactions that he could do nothing consciously against his instinctual core coding… well, he _could_ trick it somewhat, but never to turn it off. So he would do that, to prove himself that his processor was stronger than his coding. It was distasteful to force a youngling…

“But you know what? I forgot my math. Two thirds is more than three fifths. So you did win.”

Silverbolt’s helm snapped up suddenly and he heard the sharp hiss of Air Raid from behind. He stared at Starscream incredulously, the ironic-bitter voice carving a painfully stinging track into his processor while his coding sang triumphantly at the voluntary admission. Why? Why was the Seeker suddenly giving away the win he grabbed after so much trouble? Why would he voluntarily submit…? He managed only an embarrassing squeak in return.

“Wha’…?”

“You heard me all right.”

Starscream’s face closed up again, wiping the momentary vulnerability and displaying only his usual haughty façade. Without any more words, without even a sound he turned gracefully on one thruster-heel, dropped to his knees and bent forward waiting. Silverbolt stood frozen behind him. The sound of the red panel snapping open was like an explosion in the silence of the clearing and both Aerialbots twitched strongly at it.

“Don’t dawdle, Autobot. I haven’t got all orn!”

Silverbolt moved forward in a daze, the situation-specific coding being basically the only part of him working normally, while the rest of himself definitely lagged behind. He put a slightly trembling servo on Starscream’s right hip, mindlessly caressing the seam there, like he would if it was among his brothers and not this… travesty of affection. He heard the impatient ex-vent from Starscream and it spurred him to act a bit faster, even as he was still reeling from the revelations.

The main problem was that he wasn’t aroused in the slightest and that fragging coding didn’t help any in that. It supposed that the winning would arouse him enough and the display of the sub in front of him would do the rest. But Silverbolt didn’t feel particularly victorious, he felt shocked and frustrated. Nor did he particularly want to frag Starscream. Well, maybe some other time, in entirely different circumstances, he might… 

The Seeker seemed to perceive his hesitation and ground his red aft backwards, onto Silverbolt’s slowly heating pelvic plate. He also flexed those beautiful wings that most Aerialbots secretly worshipped backwards and Silverbolt couldn’t help but fondle them, arousing the Seeker as well as himself. It was still awkward, but at least his spike started to pressurize now and he released it, rubbing it on the red aft to get it fully harden.

Starscream, as always lubricated copiously already, the purple liquid oozing out of his valve and dripping down on his white thighs, but Silverbolt still felt it necessary to stretch him a bit with some digits. They were… both reeling still, arousal warring with the strange emotions but not fully enveloping them in its haze yet. He fumbled, Starscream trembled slightly and it was slagging awkward still. Sliding in though made his lust overcome his hesitation and he thrust in with a bit more confidence.

Careful of course, as Silverbolt was sure that he could never be rough with Starscream after what he heard this orn, after what he learned and saw the Seeker do. So he thrust in gently, letting his size handle the arousing beside his servos that kept petting the wings - and listened to the Seeker’s reactions. They were somewhat more subdued still that Silverbolt would have liked but more than he truthfully expected. So he kept going and tried to loose himself in that fragging, code-induced triumphant mood that came so naturally the last time they were in the same position.

Interface never felt this long and drawn out in his admittedly not very lengthy existence and though he reached completion after nearly a joor, it still wasn’t an experience he’d remember fondly. Or in any way if he could help it. He let go of the red plating as soon as he released his transfluid into the Seeker and hoped that the tightening of the calipers meant that Starscream overloaded as well. He could never be sure of the Seeker’s reactions, they were so guarded and carefully kept in check; as vocal as Starscream usually was, he never displayed it during interface, not when on the bottom anyway.

To the observing officers the end was quite anticlimactic, especially after the shocking revelations earlier. The fliers were all nearly silent and moved with hesitation, even after Starscream transformed and left, also uncharacteristically, without any further words. Not like Prowl felt like much talking himself. The situation that they set out to investigate produced such results that would require more deliberations and eventual decisions – including the Prime too, since it got so serious now.

To his surprise Prowl felt sorry and empathy not only for the Aerialbots – which was to be expected – but towards the Seekers and Starscream in particular too. To have such coding that influenced their behaviour so much was a heavy burden. To know that it can’t ever be changed would be tantamount to a life sentence. At least Praxian traditions were just that: traditions, enforced only by the demands of society but forgotten once that society was destroyed and circumstances changed. The Seekers, on the other servo were in it forever.


	7. Thundercracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not one of the best chapters, but advancing the plot slightly and the lots of introspection fits TC well. :-)

Thundercracker

“Hey, hey! Have you seen how I shot down Dirge?” 

“Suuure, Slings, we all saw it. We haven’t done anything else all through the battle but follow your heroics…”

“Well, I saw it.” – Fireflight’s voice interrupted Air Raid’s starting rant.

“See…?!?”

“I also saw Dive and Raid tying knots on Thrust’s tailfins and Bolt forcing down Thundercracker.”

“Not to forget Flighty and Starscream!” – Skydive’s voice held mirth and all of them chuckled with their brother – “There was no way the Screamer could follow a path that erratic.”

Fireflight pouted slightly and wobbled in the air, sliding out of the formation.

“I can’t help that. I was… distracted a bit.”

“A bit…?”

“It’s okay, Flight, you did your best.” – even Silverbolt’s voice was light and understanding. They’ve won, after all, there was no need to point out that Fireflight nearly crashed into Bruticus, courtesy of Blast Off waxing himself too shiny. After all his completely ad hoc flight path thoroughly confused Starscream. 

“Yeah, Flight, you did okay!”

Air Raid wobbled slightly, bumping a wing gently into the Phantom. They were all in high spirits after the win, bantering and laughing all the way till the clearing. At such times even that place seemed sunnier, more airy and inviting than other times. Landing there, still alone, they mingled around, their good mood making even the waiting more pleasant. It took more than a joor before they heard the sound of jet engines approaching and by that time Silverbolt caught himself glancing upwards every breem or so.

It wasn’t like the Seekers to be late. No, it was usually Starscream tapping his pede impatiently on the ground while his trine-mates boredly sat on the rocks. Even when they lost it was so, like the Seeker wanted to get over the whole thing and fly back to the Nemesis. Silverbolt tried to remember if Starscream was injured or not, but the last time they saw the Seekers, all three of them were flight-capable, albeit sporting some injuries and burns from the battle. So why were they late?

-o-o-o-

Thundercracker paced in their quarters nervously, turning on one heel by the wall, stopping for a klik, like waiting his comm to crack into life and bark at him. His wings were nervously fluttering behind him, just like Skywarp’s by the berth. The teleporter was sitting uncharacteristically still, the cracked turbine causing him enough pain even without standing on it and his dim optics nervously followed the path that Thundercracker was trying to wear into the floor. He had to wait for that injury to be fixed, since the Constructicons had their servos full with more serious damages.

Two cubes of energon sat on the table, innocent in their pink sparkle, one having a slightly lower level than the other, as Thundercracker managed to drink a gulp before he started to pace. Skywarp didn’t feel like drinking, the fumes from his own nosecone were still tasting bitter in his mouth. Fragging younglings started to grow up and handing them their afts more often than not. And there were five of them, albeit the smallest one hardly ever counted with his laughable top speed and brash thoughtlessness. But the rest of them were more than enough to give them a run for their credits and ever since they learned a bit about manoeuvres and tactics they became formidable enemies.

Hence the nervous intensity of Thundercracker - and his own of course, but that was beside the point – waiting and apprehensive. They should be at the clearing now, in fact they should have been there long ago and Skywarp didn’t like his Trine to be thought of cowards who tried to slink out of the ritual. Even though he was just the third wing, he had just as much pride in them as Starscream. Or Thundercracker, who was becoming increasingly agitated as time passed with no word about Starscream.

Of course Skywarp understood his mate’s nervousness. Every breem longer that Starscream hasn’t returned made is just surer that Megatron was slagging him beyond any possibility to be able to fly and perform his duty. At first they had hoped. The battle wasn’t an unmitigated disaster after all, they had salvaged the remains of the device that they set out to acquire and Starscream was perfectly capable of repairing the thing for them to utilize later. So it wasn’t a far-fetched hope that Megatron would just punish their trine-leader for the insults he’d hurled at his helm and that would be it. Starscream was certainly no stranger to a few dents and a crushed vocalizer and neither would hamper his ability to let the young Aerial take him.

But this long absence meant that either Megatron was more furious than they thought or Starscream managed to infuriate him with further backtalking. Neither would surprise either Seeker to be honest, but it all meant that the hated duty would now fell to his second wing, Thundercracker as soon as they got the comm from Megatron to take Starscream to the repair bay – or from Hook directly informing them that he was already there. And so the blue Seeker wore a path into the flooring of their quarters, waiting for the word. When it came, it caused no surprises.

“Thundercracker!” – the comm line barked suddenly – “Take this… scrap from my quarters now!”

“At once Lord Megatron.”

While Thundercracker’s voice was unemotional and level, betraying none of his nervousness, Skywarp clearly saw the blue wings fold and droop as he turned to leave. Although not commanded, he was by the blue Seeker’s side at once, the light touch signalling what he couldn’t say – silent support and standing by his side, wincing only inwardly as he put weight on the turbine. They were at the Commander’s door in a klik, Thundercracker signalling their presence and respectfully waiting for permission to enter.

When the door slid to the side, they tried hard not to look at the bleeding heap on the floor but to Megatron, waiting for his order. It has always been a precarious nanoklik. Megatron was at his most dangerous mood, right between coming down from his fury at Starscream and his rising lust at the Seeker splayed out on the floor, thankfully out cold. Had they showed the slightest compassion or worry for their trine-leader, it would have been more than their plating at risk. Not even the most loyal Seeker, Skywarp was exempt from the tyrant’s fury in such occasions. 

“Take him.” 

Megatron growled at them, turning away as they stepped in and gathered up their trine-leader. He really did a number on the Seeker this time and they knew that there was no chance of Starscream being able to fly and frag within a reasonable time-frame. Neither of them in a mood for talking, they set out in a brisk pace to carry Starscream to Hook and leave him with the crane. Thundercracker scowled deeply, covering up his unease and worry for Starscream as he laid him up on a repair berth. He’d survived worse, he’d survive this one too. They had to go.

The two Seekers scrambled to leave before anyone gave them a task or ordered them to do a shift somewhere. Flying back so soon after a battle was a bother and sometimes required a little lying, but this time they got away quietly, no mech questioning them why they were leaving and without their trine-leader. They flew at top speed, hoping that the Aerials were still there, Thundercracker in a silent contemplation at the situation and what he’d have to do and even Skywarp quieter than usual.

It was very different to submit to Starscream, their trine-leader, the Seeker who beat him in speed, manoeuvrability, cunning and fighting in a fair contest and so was indubitably his superior in the air and processor as well. Another thing entirely to have to submit to an enemy flier, a barely adult youngling who had the distinctly unfair advantage of having a quintet over their Trine and being able to combine into a monster. It hardly even compared.

Thundercracker himself didn’t perceive it as losing, hardly ever felt bested by the Aerialbots. Yes, they learned. Yes, they developed. Yes, they occasionally bested one of them in a true dogfight, one-on-one too. Yes, they weren’t hopelessly incompetent bumblers, like Thrust and his crew. But they hardly felt like his betters either – their victories always had that accidental quality that made him grumble. So the idea of submitting to this overgrown youngling wasn’t a comfortable one to wrap his processor around. 

He wasn’t sure how Starscream did it. If Thundercracker was bested only by him, then the Air Commander by definition has never been bested in his long existence. Had he been, he wouldn’t be having that rank. So it must have been Pit to have to submit to this oblivious youngling, who would normally be so low in the ranks as to never even dream of challenging their winglord. But such was the fortune of their world. What else could a Seeker do than what his coding required him to do?

Starscream tried to resist it after rewriting had such a disastrous result – Thundercracker knew from his description that he was only saved by a medic who was able to purge the bad codes in time, before they wiped out his personality components. Resisting was marginally easier for the dominating flier, but only for a while – after some time the coding inevitably took matters into its servo and it was far worse to be its puppet than even submitting. 

To be honest, Thundercracker admitted to himself as they descended to land, in this situation he might have tried to resist the urge, if not for the Trine’s honour, in extension Starscream’s honour in stake. After all, it was Starscream’s duty and not coding, only tradition demanded him to stand in his place. Together with his shaky perceptions of the battle as a losing one, it might have let him out of its clutches… if only. The blue Seeker shook his helm to get rid of the thoughts – he was probably overthinking it as he usually did matters. Landing in front of the bubbly younglings he scowled and tried to concentrate to the here and now.

“We thought you wouldn’t come after so much time?” – Fireflight was totally oblivious of the insult inherent in his innocent question and only that stayed Skywarp’s servo from lifting his null-rays. He growled though, deep from his chassis and even Thundercracker flashed a dark look at the younger jet.

“Yeah, and where is Starscream?” – the brash one, with the designation Slingshot Thundercracker remembered, asked in a cocky voice.

“He couldn’t come.” – he ground out, concealing the worry for their trine-leader from his tone.

“Hey, did Megatron scrap him or what?”

“As a matter of fact, he has.” – he snarled back, angry now. – “Happy now?”

“Stop it, all of you!” – Silverbolt ordered his team, a tiny bit worried for both the blue Seeker in front of him, as he rarely showed such fury, and surprisingly for the absent, probably heavily damaged Starscream as well. Thundercracker collected himself and snarled at them.

“Let’s get it over with. I’m not in a mood to satisfy your team’s love for inane chatter and casual insults.”

Silverbolt seemed to catch his mood and understand it somewhat, because he waved the other four jets back and nodded silently to Thundercracker. He even refrained from mentioning that it was them who had to wait for the Seekers for joors. The blue Seeker stood straight for a klik more while Skywarp too retreated and Silverbolt noted that he was both bigger and more heavyset than his trine-leader, straining to stand taller still to try to match his height. Then his wings lowered and visibly forcing himself, he turned, bowing and folding down in front of him, his expression scrunched up and tense.

Silverbolt stared at the blue expanse of the wings in front of him, even more disconcerted than usual and feeling very little arousal again. He somewhat got used to fragging Starscream or be fragged by him and the colours, the shape, the deeper rumble of the engines and the uneasily roiling field in front of him were all wrong now, throwing him out of sorts. He stepped closer, sliding his palms upwards on the blue panels, feeling the uneasy flicker of his field, the slight tensing of the cables. The blue Seeker was clearly uncomfortable in his position. 

He slid his digits upwards and caressed the ailerons lightly until another tremble run through the wings and the tensing slowly started to dissipate. Thundercracker bowed his helm further, not particularly wanting to see Skywarp watch him while being fragged but the touches were nice, finding all the hotspots and his core temperature started to rise. However young the Concorde was, he seemed to learn much during the previous times and was employing the same arousing strokes that Starscream used on him to dispel his fears. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

He slid his panel open, letting the Aerialbot know that he was ready – and he was, lubricant slickening his valve and his spike straining against his panel. He didn’t make the mistake of releasing it though. It was sometimes a bother to have a spike preference for a second wing Seeker, but it turned out to be just as well in their Trine – being in the middle satisfied him completely with Starscream thrusting into his valve and pushing his spike into Skywarp as it usually went when it was just them and no slagging coding dictating matters.

Too bad it couldn’t go that way now. Not seeing Silverbolt, he could almost imagine that it was Starscream behind him – the Concorde’s moves and touches were obviously copied from the Air Commander despite of his far larger size. But he wasn’t rough or forceful like Blast Off sometimes, the shuttle denying his base coding along with his frame-kin and acting even more vicious sometimes than most Seekers. Thundercracker was surprised how easily the Concorde slid into him, the spike definitely bigger than Starscream’s, stretching him wide, just on this side from being painful. 

But the slight tweaks on his wingtips, the digits finding his seams, they nicely balanced the barely there pain with far more pleasure. Thundercracker panted, then gave up being silent and moaned into the next thrust, the slight burn gone and the large spike easily hitting his deepest node, eliciting a yelp as well. Frag, but it was good. If he forgot who it was behind him. But Thundercracker didn’t let himself slide back into that train of thoughts. He focused on the pleasure signals and let them swamp his processor. This way it was bearable and ending relatively soon. 

-o-o-o-

“So what is it?” – Optimus Prime looked at his SIC and TIC quizzically. To see just one of them uneasy and… he hesitated to use the human word flustered but just, was unusual, but to have them both nearly squirm in his office was downright unnerving – “I take it you have found something unusual.”

“Unusual doesn’t even start to cover it…” – Jazz murmured thickly.

On their way back, they had time to discuss the matter in depth and the more they realized the worse it became for both of them. By the time they reached the Ark Prowl was fighting hard not to glitch and surprisingly Jazz completely sympathized with him, wishing he could escape into offlining as well. 

“Prime Sir, we have determined the reason for Silverbolt’s… trysts with the Decepticon Air Commander.” – Prowl was wording the revelation in the most neutral way he could and still having his doorwings flicker in a quiet distress – “The battles they have are translated into a ritualized scenario, where the triumphant side is behaving like they would in a more intimate setting, where they are the dominants and the losing side is the subordinate one.”

Optimus Prime needed a few kliks to translate his Second’s overly formal words to plain Cybertronian. When he managed it, he was sure that he was mistaken.

“I’m sorry Prowl but I must have misunderstood you.”

“The winner frags tha loser, that’s what Prowlie is trying ta avoid saying out loud.” – Jazz flashed his visor apologetically to Prowl but continued – “Apparently it’s a core coding in Seekers and when we created tha Aerialbots, it was unknowingly included in their code. So Bolt has to frag Starscream, it is not his choice.”

Optimus Prime felt like a hammer hit him. Apparently Jazz knew it, because the spy looked more apologetic by the klik and shifted to be ready to catch either of them if necessary. It was a close thing with Prowl swaying slightly and his doorwings fluctuating in random but the Praxian managed to contain his weakness. Optimus Prime was simply speechless in comparison, which in a way was almost as bad as Prowl glitching; their illustrious leader was rarely caught without appropriate words. Anyhow, Jazz considered the matter sufficiently shocking for them to react this way. After all, his processor wasn’t the epitome of easy acceptance either, only he managed to hide it better through long experience.

“And… have I understood right that it is our own doing?”

“Yes, Sir. When the Aerialbots were created, their coding was based on the Seekers’, as much as we understood it back then. Apparently not quite enough.”

“You can say that again…” – Jazz murmured under his invent.

“The Aerialbots’ coding was based…”

“Slag, Prowl, it was an expression… I heard you the first time.”

“I must say that it is… highly unfortunate.” – Optimus Prime collected himself a bit and continued – “Obviously, we can’t blame Silverbolt and his team for something that is outside their control. I mean… I take it is outside their control?”

He glanced at both of them for confirmation. Prowl’s unhappy flick of his doorwings and Jazz’s visor flashing dark was a nonverbal affirmation, but the spy elaborated further.

“Yes, it is. The last time we learned that even Starscream can’t overcome this coding, even though he considers the Aerials almost younglings and is uncomfortable by having to interface Silverbolt.”

“In fact once he deliberately gave up a debated win to Silverbolt.”

“Why do you think he did so? It is quite surprising from Starscream as we know him.”

“Seekers hold sparklings and younglings in high esteem. Very few Seeker would harm one for any reason.”

“So the Aerialbots are… for the lack of a better word, safe from the Decepticon Seekers? I must admit it is not the impression I gathered from their battles.”

“Well, battles are a different matter. Apparently our fliers are old enough if they fight, so…”

“Can we… protect them from the aftermath of battles? Order them back to the Ark and not let out until…”

“…until the next battle, Prime? It would be cruel. Besides it probably wouldn’t even work. Starscream indicated that the coding’s influence is strong. It might take matters into its… servo.”

“We should work on changing that coding then. As soon as possible. Even if the Aerialbots are not a liability now and not even in danger… it could change any time. Besides we owe them this much, since it was our doing…”

“Should we tell Silverbolt that we know about it?”

“I think it would be necessary to work with their coding.”

“No, we could work with Skyfire.”

“He too…???” – Optimus Prime thought that he’d already heard the worst that orn. But apparently it wasn’t over yet.

“According to Starscream, he has the dormant version of the coding.”

“We should avoid triggering it then… maybe telling him is a bad idea, Prowl. We don’t know what activates it.”

“We don’t know that but once the Aerialbots know that we know about it… well, they aren’t very good on keeping secrets.”

“So we should discuss it with all involved?”

“That might be the best. Including Ratchet, he might have ideas about the code.”

“Agreed then. When the Aerialbots come back, we convene again.”

-o-o-o-

 

Thundercracker straightened up, gathering his dignity about him and turning around. He didn’t look at the younglings or Skywarp, he ignored the paint scrapes and transfluid dripping down on his thighs, only to the big jet who just released his hips and stood there in a vaguely uncomfortable way, like he didn’t know suddenly what to do with his limbs. 

“There is one more thing.” – he said quietly, so that only the two of them could hear – “Skywarp saw a spy last time in the bushes. It was your SIC, the Praxian. Just thought you should know.”

Silverbolt looked thunderstruck and not a little panicking. 

“We are dead…”

“Well, it’s their fault, you know? Don’t blame yourselves and don’t let grounders heap it on you!” – Thundercracker hissed angrily – “we never exchanged any information, so they can’t accuse you with anything.”

“I… uhhh… right…” – Silverbolt still looked frightened and more of his age than any other times.

“Gotta go now. But you must stand up to them. You are Seekers. Don’t lie down to grounders.”

As they left the clearing, Thundercracker caught the last glance from the youngling. It was still frightened… but he collected himself somewhat. Inwardly, he wished them to be spared from the whole clusterfrag for the thousandth times. It never helped. Life was a bitch apparently, laughing at them all. Thundercracker forced his sensors – and thoughts – forward, where they still had enough troubles for themselves.


	8. Thrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coriopsis for the suggestions for this scenario and the follow-up. As she suggested, it takes place somewhere during episode ‘Aerial Assault’, that’s why Skydive and Slingshot is not present. Also thanks for Skywinder for the idea and encouragement to take the pairing further that started to get outlined in the fic: Starscream/Silverbolt.

_Additional warning: the code-influenced interfacing that is generally classified as dub-con throughout the fic is actually closer to **non-con** in this chapter. _

\-----------------------

This part of Earth was hot, dusty and inimical on sensors and they all hated it instinctly. Silverbolt was glad that they didn’t have to stay on the ground, because it looked even worse, but he didn’t feel comfortable in the air either. Every little whirl of the wind disturbed the reddish sand and puffed huge clouds of annoying dust into their paths, clogging their joints, blinding their sensors and making Air Raid burst into another breem of cursing. Even Fireflight was more subdued and dour than usual; the lack of anything shiny, Pit, the lack of anything interesting even was taking its toll on the young jet.

It didn’t help that they were all worried sick for their brothers. Slingshot disappeared three orns ago and Skydive shortly after and neither of them was heard ever since. It was rapidly getting close to the longest time any of them was separated from the gestalt and making all of them jittery, worried and frustrated. Silverbolt thought that he was hiding it well enough, but Air Raid hasn’t even tried and Fireflight was… well, even more scatter-processored and clingy than usual, which was his way of showing concern.

He also had the uncomfortable knowledge from Thundercracker that the Autobot officers knew about their… _affair_ with the Seekers. How long, not even the Seekers knew. But in retrospect, Silverbolt did notice the increased workload on his team, that left them almost no free time and it must have been connected. Then last orn Prowl notified him that he was to attend this unscheduled meeting with the command staff and Silverbolt was sure that slag would finally hit the fan there. He wasn’t sure that their present, unexpected mission that came as a surprise was good or not, but at least it gave him some time before facing the firing squad.

But he doubted that they could discover anything worthwhile from up in the air either. The place was all desert, red-brown windblown sand in somewhat interesting but unhelpful dunes, some dusty, uninteresting rocks and similarly dusty human towns. Even their best, recently upgraded sensors were unable to penetrate the sand and stones for more than a meter or so, therefore unable to see if any of the rock-formations hid a cave or something that they could investigate. 

How could anything be hidden in such a desolate place, Silverbolt had no idea. But their brothers must be somewhere around, or at least not too far – the gestalt link fell dormant some time ago with them but still told them this much. It was worrying in itself, because very few things made their bond go so dead, signalling bad things for Skydive and Slingshot. Neither of them said that aloud though. It was bad enough to hear from Prowl when he sent them to investigate.

Their sensors all turned down and pointed towards the reddish earth, the Aerialbots had no chance to see the winged shapes coming down on them from above and behind. Fireflight barely had the time to yelp before it turned into a pained screech as a black nosecone rammed into him amidships and his left wing couldn’t take the strain, folded upwards to dump him into a steep dive. Ramjet followed him laughing madly all the way down, not letting the younger jet to climb out of the downward spiral, only pulling up when he crashed in a cloud of red dust.

Air Raid cursed as he was rocked by a missile streaking close to his chassis and dived too to help Fireflight. But he was both late and outnumbered as Dirge was on him in an instant, the mournful whine of his engines just as disturbing as the weapon’s fire, the bullets tearing into his plating painfully. Air Raid tried every manoeuvre he knew of, but the Con had the advantage of the surprise, the better position and he couldn’t shake his shadow off. The jet was doggedly following him through every trick and turn, peppering him with more fire until one lucky shot found and tore an energon line.

The ensuing fireball robbed Air Raid completely of his ability to stay up, much less to help Flight. While he was falling, fighting with his own failing systems, Air Raid’s thoughts went to Silverbolt, facing the Coneheads alone and his spark constricted heavily. They were in a bad way without Superion and taken out so fast. 

“Bolt, escape! It’s an ambush, they take us out one by one!”

“Concentrate on landing Raid and look after Flight.”

He heard the Concorde’s engines drawing close, Silverbolt trying to chase Dirge off his tailfins. He was successful, just too late to prevent Air Raid’s near crash landing and by the time he realized it, the other two Coneheads were on his back, Thrust taunting him in an open line. He had some reason to feel triumphant, Silverbolt realized, with his slower speed, his reluctance to rise high enough for more effective manoeuvres and without his brothers he was a sparkling’s play for the Seekers. Even these Seekers. The dogfight – if it could be called that – didn’t last a breem.

The pain blossomed in his frame as the missiles hit. Fighting through the thick smoke of the close explosions and his processor threatening to shut down, Silverbolt managed a rough landing, that was just short of a crash and transformed as quickly as the grinding, damaged plates and his weakening determination let him. He had to see his brothers. Scrambling there where he saw the still swirling dust clouds Silverbolt recognized Fireflight’s reddish-smeared, mangled frame unmoving in the crater he created. It looked so serious that he couldn’t stop a frightened yelp as he was down there on the young jet’s side.

“Owwww…” – the voice was pained, scratchy almost like Starscream’s and very low – “Did I… Hiya Bolt! Sorry for this…”

Silverbolt was silently thanking Primus for small miracles, even as he was checking Fireflight over for any energon leaks. But it seemed that he was as resilient in crashes as Ramjet was in collisions; the Aerialbot leader silently mused, while he was already looking for Air Raid. The brash jet was up and moving towards them already, albeit favouring his right leg and his left side scorched black from the exploding energon. But he was already cursing up a storm, so he had to be fine. Well, fine-ish.

His team mates checked, Silverbolt looked up worriedly to check on the attacking Seekers. Why it was them, he didn’t know, nor did he care much, but even these Seekers could take them out injured and on the ground, since Fireflight wasn’t going to fly without repairs to that wing and Air Raid… was questionable as well. The dust made it hard to see anything and played havoc with the sensors as well, but he thought he saw the Trine circling overhead. Like vultures above the prey, as a television program suddenly flitted through his processor.

But in a breem the sand was settling a bit and he saw the Coneheads land nearby. Instinctly, he moved in front of his team, shielding the injured ones from the threat. Because the Seekers exuded a threatening air quite visibly. Thrust’s grin was downright menacing and the manic laughter of Ramjet grated on his audials. Their wings were also flared and high, turbines roaring far louder than needed on the ground. 

But their weapons were not out. So what did they want from them? Silverbolt was understandably confused. He had far less experience with these Seekers and couldn’t really judge their intentions. Were it Starscream’s Trine, he’d feel safe, since they never harmed the Aerials past disabling or grounding. But these… these looked far more vicious and Silverbolt brought his blaster, the only melee weapon he had, to bear. Why did he even carry it he wasn’t sure – probably because it was standard issue for all troops.

“Hey! Put that down!” – Thrust snarled – “We won fair and square!”

Silverbolt hesitantly lowered his weapon. So they already considered the battle concluded. It was good, because it meant they didn’t want to deactivate them or harm further, but then why were they still here… if not for… ohh… 

“Do you deny my victory???”

“How could I…?” – he gestured to his injured brothers. He was afraid where it would go, but he couldn’t deny the facts. – “You don’t mean… _that_? Here? Right now?!?”

“Why not? I bested you! I will take you!”

The Conehead’s loud and brash voice was full of boasting smugness and hungry lust – but his posture also betrayed anger, frustration, envy… things that Silverbolt hardly understood in the situation. The Seeker wasn’t hard to read with his wide gestures and especially with the fans on his wings, spinning in complete accord with his tone of voice. Right now, they were practically roaring, underlining his demand. Silverbolt turned halfway and looked helplessly back, but Air Raid had no helping answer either, just the tightly pressed and trembling lipplates betrayed his anger as he shrugged dejected.

Before Silverbolt could turn back, he felt a strong push that nearly made him lose his balance – and instinctly caused him to defend himself, before he could think. He swept his servos down, slapping away the intruding limbs and managed to dislodge one from his plating – but then his coding kicked in and he felt his knee joints weakening, shaking and finally buckling, even as he heard the enraged Thrust’s yell from behind. It was like control of his frame was suddenly taken away from him, leaving him a puppet that danced on unseen strings. It was far more frightening than anything so far.

“Yessss! Finally! I’ll take you and mark you!” – Thrust exulted in a coarse voice that sounded barely sane. “I’M THE BEST!”

Silverbolt dropped to the ground, bowing forward, while he was desperately fighting to regain control of his body. It was frightening and demeaning at the same time and he suddenly understood what Starscream meant about how awful it was to have your choice taken. It was like a dream. A bad one. It was far worse than himself acquiescing because they’ve lost. His processor worked perfectly despite of the enforced motionlessness, he perceived acutely every micron of his plating, the hot air’s touch on his sensors, the sounds of fury from Thrust, the annoying laughter from Ramjet, the helpless, hissing curse from Air Raid and the quiet whimper of Flight in the background… 

… and the claws that tore into his wings, making him bow his back struts in pain. Thrust was mangling his ailerons in a cruel mockery of arousing, bending and twisting the sensitive flaps viciously, talons piercing metal and tubes until energon started to drip down on his white plating. Silverbolt keened in pain he never felt before. No battle injury even compared to the sensitive surfaces being mangled cruelly… and he could do nothing in the clutches of the coding that held him there, unable to move aside from some small, pain-induced flinches and jerks as the smaller Seeker ruthlessly satisfied his need for revenge on the hated enemy. 

Then the servo moved down, talons carving bleeding tracks into his backside and aft. The lines burned even on his fever-hot armour but Silverbolt swallowed back the whimpers trying to break past his lips. He would not give Thrust the satisfaction, the small measure of resistance awoke in his processor; he might not have any control over his frame now, but his vocalizer was free. That is, free to be silent. So he stayed quiet while the claw-tips dug painfully into the hip seams and opened his panel before Thrust could start to bend it off.

“Yesss! Yess! I see you know your place!”

The Seeker sounded nearly deranged with his conflicting, chaotic field whipping around him and Silverbolt started to be truly frightened of him. With the coding almost paralyzing him there was nothing to stop Thrust from doing whatever he wanted. And Thrust didn’t seem to be in a hurry either to finish – he wanted to enjoy the rare opportunity to dominate another flier after a battle, hot from the excitement and the victory.

Silverbolt tried, he really did to relax and just… let him finish fast. But Thrust didn’t want it fast, he wanted to hurt him and enjoy it as long as he could. And he wasn’t Starscream, a bitter, little thought sneaked into the Concorde’s processor, how ironic it was, that he wished it was the supposedly vicious Air Commander, his gentle, sympathetic, arousing touches, his lustful, familiar field, instead of… this. 

He shut his optics tight but cleanser still oozed through. The digits slammed into his valve, the talon-tips rending the delicate entrance and drawing even more energon. He couldn’t lubricate, not from this, not for him, no matter how he tried. He shook all over and the mad field that whipped behind him just made him want to purge. It was more than crazy, he could take that – it wasn’t like the Air Commander was completely sane – it was deranged and perverted.

Thrust’s movements became erratic, his words incomprehensible as he shouted them. He worked himself up to such a state that was rare even for him. He draped himself all over the bigger frame, forcing it lower with his weight, to reach every piece of the hated, envied, loathed and resented white armour, to mar its perfection, sully it and defile it… _because he could_. He rammed into the valve only when he himself couldn’t refrain from it any more, the heady feeling of victory and having a frame underneath making him aroused faster than he expected.

Silverbolt managed to lubricate a little despite of the pain and it meant that Thrust at least couldn’t harm him there. Physically, that is. Mentally, the young flier tried to distance himself from the act, like it was happening to someone else. He still felt it and every strong thrust jarred a little his concentration to just get the Pit over it so he could forget… he wouldn’t, Silverbolt knew, he could never forget it again, but getting away and never seeing Thrust again would be an acceptable substitute. 

Kneeling on the hard, red rocks, a madmech’s weight on his back and slamming into him in the dry heat while the dust their movements puffed into the hot air hid them, quickly became surreal. He locked down the gestalt bond at the beginning so that his brothers would be spared from perceiving the rape, if not from seeing it, floating in a bubble, cut off from reality. He was alone, more so than ever since they onlined, alone with the humiliation… and it was far worse than Starscream the first time, he could compare it now. That one was gentle and considerate in comparison and Silverbolt silently apologised the tricoloured Seeker for his thoughts then. 

He felt the final roar and the rush of transfluid into his valve, the servos tightening on his wingtips and talons piercing the metal again. Himself overloading was a laughable idea, the whole ordeal caused him pain enough to dissipate any stray charge that managed to rise. The accursed numbness disappeared as the codes perceived the dominant Seeker’s climax and Silverbolt shifted, squirmed, trying to shake off the nearly dead weight of Thrust, who was still draped over him, probably knocking himself offline momentarily with the overload. 

Then suddenly the weight disappeared, tearing the depressurized spike out of his valve. That hurt, the spent, limp metal scraping over the abused sensors, but Silverbolt didn’t mind it. He straightened up, ignoring the pain and the error messages on his HUD, only glad that it was over. The silent bubble around him popped and was gone, the world suddenly returned – and he winced again as he heard a familiar-sounding, audial-hurting shriek nearby, along with metal clanging on metal like in a huge smithy.

Silverbolt stood up with some difficulty, closed his panel, ignored the twinges of pain from his wings and back and turned towards the shouting. Then he stared at the unlikely spectacle in front of him, while he felt Air Raid come up behind, supporting the barely walking Fireflight and silently laying a sympathetic servo on his shoulder. He felt them both staring at the Seekers like himself, occasionally wincing at a sharper than usual shriek or scream.

Starscream looked livid. They’d all seen the Air Commander angry in battles, frustrated if his manoeuvre didn’t succeed, incensed at Megatron or mad at his own trine-mates – but they never saw him so completely enraged like he was at the moment, shrieking and clawing at the barely onlined, very much baffled Thrust, while his Trine-mates held back their counterparts in the background, wearing identical and nearly as angry expressions than their wingleader. It was a fury so unrestrained, so out of bounds that Silverbolt never wanted to get into Starscream’s way during such a fit. What he didn’t understand was why the Seeker was so incensed, what caused his fury to be unleashed at the hapless Conehead.

“Slagging, good for nothing glitchead! Fragging on duty, while that rusting buckethead waits for you on schedule and take it out on ME!”

Well, that made the matter a tiny bit clearer. Not the extent of the fury, but at least the reason for it.

“B-but we w-won…” – it was all Thrust could stammer out, while he cowered from the enraged blows and slashes of his Air Commander – “B-beat the Autobots!”

“I don’t care!” – Starscream shrieked, making everyone within a hundred mechanometers wince and punctuated it with another blow on the hapless Conehead’s faceplates – “This has no place during an operation!”

He waved towards the Autobot fliers, carelessly on the surface, like dismissing them as unimportant, but Silverbolt caught the glance of the garnet optics that slid over his frame, taking on all the scratches, dents, paint streaks and dripping fluids. He felt embarrassed at being in the focus of such intense scrutiny, but in a way it warmed his spark to feel the concern behind the once over. The Air Commander’s optics narrowed for a nanoklik and when he turned back to Thrust, his talons tore into plating again viciously. 

“Be glad that you have a place to be right now, or I’d truly teach you what such disobedience means!”

He pushed the battered Thrust away from himself, standing towering over him as he snarled and hissed his instructions in a low voice, so the Aerialbots couldn’t hear. The Coneheads meekly and with frightened glances scrambled back from him and nodded frantically. Then in a breem the trio was in the air, flying away in their top speed, for whatever the Decepticon leader needed him. It reminded Silverbolt to their own mission and his missing brothers, the worry returning now that the danger has passed.

And wasn’t it strange that he didn’t consider Starscream a threat? He pondered about it for a few kliks, while the Seekers conversed among each other quietly. He knew that the Seekers, or rather these Seekers had never harmed them outside battles. Still, the matter remained that their goals and intentions were different and they were enemies, from different, enemy armies. It also reminded him of the promised talk with the Autobot officers and his worry grew tenfold. 

“Raid? Can you fly if we have to?”

“Yeah, Bolt, don’t worry about me.”

“Flight?”

“I’ll… manage. I think. How are you, Bolt?” – Fireflight sounded hesitant. – “Did he…?”

“I’m… all right.” – he answered stiffly. The experience was such he didn’t wish to share with anyone, much less with his brothers. But they’d know the next time they had to combine anyway… still, time would soften the impact somewhat. – “I hope…”

“I’ll help Flight.” – Air Raid was scowling but his voice was unusually soft. – “You don’t look so stellar either.”

“I don’t feel like so…” – the so far ignored pain signals started to grow in intensity instead of disappearing and Silverbolt couldn’t quite silence a groan.

“If you transform with those, you’ll regret it.”

The voice was the familiar rasp of Starscream, who got closer while they were talking and now gestured towards Silverbolt’s left side with the burnt and mangled panels. Ohh. The earlier damage, that he nearly forgotten. Now that he thought of it, Silverbolt wasn’t sure if he could transform at all and that dismayed him greatly. The other Autobots weren’t far so reaching them by flying would be easy – but not on foot in this accursed sand and dust which got in everywhere, adding its special abrasion to the movements. 

“TC and me will carry you. Your teammates can follow us together.”

“Take me where? And why?”

“You want to take us for prisoners?” – Air Raid was tense. He knew that they were no match for the Seekers in their present condition and right then he didn’t trust any Seekers at all. But Starscream just cast him an unreadable look, shook his helm exasperatedly and answered to Silverbolt’s question.

“Ehh… we do know where the other Autobots hide. It wasn’t hard to discover… grounders rarely think of hiding their tracks, as the asphalt roads make them careless but they are clearly visible from the air.”

Silverbolt nodded and noted that while Starscream answered his first question, he purposely skipped the second one. He didn’t mention it though, not wanting to anger the still volatile Seeker. Thundercracker moved to his left side, still silently offering his shoulder to lean on and Silverbolt hesitated just a klik… touching the blue plating brought up memories he didn’t want to relive and he wasn’t sure how the other managed it. He put his servo on the warm armour hesitantly and felt the barely there tensing in it, the mech’s field drawn close – but then Thundercracker impatiently pulled him closer, securing his arm around his shoulder. 

A nearly amused snort sounded from his right side, and Starscream gathered his other arm with firm movements and without any fuss, letting him no time to have second thoughts. The two smaller Seekers supporting him from both sides, their fields inevitably mingling slightly were truly a queer experience – Silverbolt was large enough that in the rare cases he was injured it always necessitated Skyfire bringing him back to the Ark, his team not having the strength and coordination to pull the manoeuvre off. 

But Starscream and Thundercracker managed to lift off with him without the slightest wobble and Silverbolt had the next queer sensation: flying without his thrusters on and not falling. The strong grips and steady roar of the Seeker’s thrusters gave him the sense of security, even though by aerial reckoning they were flying extremely slow. Twisting his helm to the side, he saw his brothers flying near, Air Raid occasionally giving a slight nudge to the still dazed Fireflight.

He realized that he should comm their temporal base that they were approaching, so that they wouldn’t shoot at the Seekers for helping them, but Starscream thought before and they were all getting lower a little while off from the place, clearly preparing to land. But their arrival didn’t pass unnoticed and when they landed, he saw an uncharacteristically angry Skyfire approaching with quick steps until he was looming over them like a dark shadow. The rest of the Autobots barely cleared the entrance while he was already at them.

“Starscream!” – the normally calm shuttle looked angry and shouted at them loud – “How could you do this?”

Starscream calmly took Silverbolt’s arm off his shoulder before straightening up and flaring his wings in an angry-threatening angle and he snarled back.

“What the frag is your problem, Skyfire? The heat is glitching your processor?”

“I know about this so-called ritual too! How could you… force a youngling???”

Starscream snarled dangerously and his servos suddenly flared the vicious talons. Thundercracker stood beside his trine-leader and a purple flash signalled that Skywarp too arrived to stand by them. They both looked furious, but let Starscream do the talking. Silverbolt couldn’t even stutter he was so shocked. Why would Skyfire think that… ohh. He did look like he was assaulted and the shuttle couldn’t know about Thrust of course. But Starscream spoke first, visibly restraining himself, in a low, dangerous voice.

“Again you make a judgement without knowing the facts. It became your habit since you returned. You’d better shut up and take them to your medic…” – he paused, showing sharp denta suddenly – “…and be glad that I don’t take you apart for that accusation.”

He turned on a thruster, jumped into the air and even his trine-mates were hard put to follow. Skyfire looked after him with a nearly comically whipped expression that awakened strange feelings in Silverbolt. He, too stared after the rapidly dwindling points in the sky, wishing very much that they could stay but chastising himself for the idea straight after. They were still enemy. However harder it’s just become to consider them so. 

“It was Thrust, Skyfire…” – he said quietly, resigned that their secret was apparently completely out – “Starscream beat him off and they helped us to get back here.”

Skyfire’s helm whipped towards him and his optics widened in a guilty surprise. 

“Ohh.”


	9. Skyfire

“Ohh indeed.” – Silverbolt didn’t feel very charitable towards the shuttle right now – “We need to get to Ratchet. We haven’t found Slingshot or Skydive yet.”

“Umm… Silverbolt… I’m… I’m sorry…”

“It’s not me you should say that to.”

“I… right.”

Skyfire glanced after the Seekers again, but they’ve been long gone from the clear blue horizon and he knew that he had no chance to go after them. But he would have to do it soon. Silverbolt an Air Raid has turned and left already, eager to be repaired and go after their missing brothers, so he was alone outside. Shame and worry swirled in his processor. Neither of them knew what could cause his own coding go active again, but Skyfire suspected that if anything could then it was being in a battle.

Prowl agreed and so he was firmly told not to do anything else but ferry them around – it was bad enough to have the Aerialbots consorting with the enemy as far as he was concerned. He also informed Silverbolt stiffly that once the present mission was over, he was expected for the long overdue hearing about their conduct. That the mission was a success made it none the easier…

“Silverbolt. Have a seat.”

Silverbolt sat nervously, as far from the others as he could while at the same table. Skyfire was there too, the shuttle looking uncharacteristically nervous, while the young flier couldn’t decipher the officers’ expressions. The Prime looked polite but firm, while Prowl wore his usual stony face and Jazz his everpresent smile. Ratchet looked annoyed, but then he always appeared so. Neither meant anything, Silverbolt knew, these were all just masks that they wore. 

“I want to say first that what we are going to talk about is and I expect to remain so, a secret from all Autobots not here at the moment.” – Optimus Prime was serious but Silverbolt noticed that he wasn’t looking pointedly at him, but at Skyfire. But he nodded anyway and the shuttle did so, murmuring an apology for his big mouth and ending it with an embarrassed sizzle from his vocalizer.

“First of all… Silverbolt, I am formally reprimanding you for consorting with the enemy and keeping it a secret from your superiors. I hope you are not denying it.”

Silverbolt shook his helm minutely and tried to make himself smaller; not an easy feat when one is larger than almost every mech else present. His faceplates were flaming and he couldn’t say a single word. All his defences and excuses that he practiced saying on the way here just… flew out of his processor. Skyfire spoke up hesitantly instead.

“Sir, but the…” – but he couldn’t finish the sentence as Optimus Prime gestured to him that he hasn’t finished yet what he wanted to say.

“At the same time I understand the circumstances and that you literally had no choice in the matter. That is our fault and we will do everything to rectify the situation. Still it remains that in any such situation you’d be required to report what has happened and you’ve been remiss in that.”

“I’m sorry, Sir…” – Silverbolt hung his helm and whispered when Optimus Prime paused for a klik. He felt bad for lying, he felt bad for being called out on it and probably being punished somehow; and all those were on top of his last experience with Thrust causing its own awfulness. He felt trapped, unable to do the right things, unable to act properly and unable to help it. It was distinctly unfair, he thought to be punished for something they couldn’t fight against. He’d told it all to Ratchet and the medic seemed sympathetic to his situation… but he wasn’t the Prime. 

It didn’t help much that his team, after reuniting and whole again had inadvertently caused them all to relive the experience. They needed to connect after Slingshot and Skydive away for so long and the gestalt bond made it impossible to lie or even to hide what happened with Thrust. And sympathy, care, horror and love could do nothing to alleviate the deep-seated humiliation Silverbolt felt. He didn’t know what could. Being called out on it definitely not though.

“Have you told it earlier, we could have done something already and probably able to prevent what happened last time.” – that was Ratchet, scowling at the Prime for being so harsh on the young flier but also angry at Silverbolt for letting things go this far. 

“B-but Starscream said that he couldn’t change the coding…”

“Starscream, Starscream… you seem to trust a lot in that Decepticon, Silverbolt. He is just one mech and I’m sure that among us we can solve this problem, even if he couldn’t.”

Silverbolt stared at the medic with wide optics. To him, it sounded incredibly conceited, even coming from Ratchet, whom he never doubted before. But this coding was so flier-specific, so hidden that it wasn’t even noticed when they were created and never since either. But he said nothing, not wanting to prolong the meeting any further that it was necessary. 

“I want you all in the med-bay next orn and we’ll comb your codes carefully to see where and what it is.”

“In the meanwhile, if we have a battle” – Optimus Prime interjected – “I want you all to stay away from the fighting unless absolutely necessary. If you have to, then… you are allowed to take part in this _ritual_ , so far as no information is exchanged. But I won't tolerate any further consorting than that.”

Silverbolt looked up to him in disbelief. He didn’t dare to hope that the Prime would let them meet with the Seekers; in fact he more than feared that they’d be locked into the brig for consorting with the enemy. His optics met with the blue gaze of Optimus Prime and he saw sympathy shining in them, telling him that it was… if not all right, but at least unavoidable. 

“Prime, is that wise?” – Prowl disagreed on a number of basis, not the least regulations, security and common sense.

“Wise or not, they can’t change their code and until we can, they have no choice, Prowl.” – Jazz argued, although he wasn’t comfortable with the situation either.

“It is my decision and I trust Silverbolt to act as an Autobot.”

Silverbolt looked up again disbelieving at what his audials told him. The Prime… trusted him? After all that he said… the young gestalt leader was confused and wanted nothing else but go back to his brothers and forget all about Seekers, coding, rituals and Cons. Maybe Starscream was right and they were too young to understand all this. Or it was really just that grounders couldn’t understand them and vice versa.

Too bad, he could do nothing about that.

-o-o-o-

Skyfire couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ratchet or Silverbolt, or any of the others telling about the coding, but he had to see it with his own optics. He had to see Silverbolt and Starscream together to decide whether there was truly no coercion or lying involved. Well, other than the protocols, which he saw with his own optics in Silverbolt’s core coding.

So there he was, perching further up on the mountainside where he could hide among the craggy peaks, but in a direct line of sight for the clearing. He only hoped that they still choose this spot to meet but lacking communications, he thought it a fair bet. He was conflicted more than ever in his long life. The codes, the ritual was barbaric and outmoded, even if he discounted the younglings involved and to consider himself having it was a frightening prospect.

At the same time he couldn’t quite grasp Starscream’s behaviour either. The Seeker had denounced him, tried to kill him, expressing clearly that whatever used to be between them – not that there was all that much beyond friendship – was over and done with, their ways firmly departing from each other with Starscream choosing the path of a warrior, a killer, something the shuttle could not accept. But how was that in any way in accord with his behaviour towards Silverbolt? If the Aerialbots were to be believed, Starscream has always been gentle and considerate with him – two attitudes he could hardly imagine this Starscream, the feared and loathed murderer that his former friend became.

He heard the jets’ noise before he saw them approaching and when they arrived to visual distance, the sight was strange too. The Trine and the gestalt flew together – separated by barely a few mechanometers and quite visibly talking with their wings, tailfins, ailerons like they were old friends. Skyfire knew that a grounder would probably not even notice the conversations going on amongst them, but he saw it as clearly as he would hear loud talking. 

And it was friendly. Definitely friendly, one might say pleasant, despite of quips and jokes from some of them, like Slingshot or Skywarp. Even Starscream reacted less acerbically than he’d do in general to a teasing jab from Skywarp. The colourful jets shone in the bright sunshine, their lazy, playful paths drew bright lines and curves into the blue sky. To Skyfire it brought old memories stirring, of peaceful times long-long ago, when war only ever meant fighting against intruders occasionally and the sky was dotted with peaceful – playing, courting, racing - fliers, not warriors. 

Then they landed and Skyfire saw the most formal and strict stance he’s ever seen from the Aerialbots, with Silverbolt as point and his team fanning out to a step to the side and behind him – just like Starscream and his wingmates. Apparently the young fliers learned more than just fragging from the Seekers and the shuttle lifted a surprised brow ridge at that. He was even more surprised when they started to talk and Silverbolt looked uncomfortable.

“Starscream… I don’t think… I mean you lost because of the Coneheads… so is it really a…?”

Starscream scowled, the first negative emotion marring his chiselled faceplates since arriving to the clearing. Thundercracker turned away, burying his helm in his servos and dragging Skywarp back from the center of the meadow. The Aerialbots looked at each other bemused as they too retreated, not in the least fearful for their leader.

“Silverbolt…” – Starscream looked like he was going to chew out the Aerialbot, but his tone changed as he said the name, from angry to exasperated – “You _are_ too young to understand the nuances of this custom…”

“B-but… I meant…”

“Don’t. Just… don’t… try to find excuses for me. It is… demeaning.”

“Ohhh…” – Silverbolt looked sheepish and bemused; apparently he truly didn’t understand why what he’d said was wrong – “I’m sorry…?” – he offered, but Starscream just waved a servo, rolled his optics, turned and assumed the position without another word.

Silverbolt, to Skyfire’s greatest surprise wasn’t hesitating or shy as he moved closer, covering the smaller Seeker with his frame and slid his servos sensually over the aft, up the back struts and outwards on the wings. His greater reach gave him plenty of opportunity to play with the surfaces and pretty soon they were both panting and moaning, surprisingly loud with their pleasure.

All too soon Starscream’s panel snapped open and Skyfire was treated with an excellent view of the lubricant that oozed from his valve, the shuttle feeling more and more like a voyeur, for all his reasonable causes to watch. Silverbolt behaved like a pro, one servo continuing to tease the ailerons, while the other prepared the smaller flier for penetration, digits pumping into the drenched valve, Starscream rocking back onto them with obvious pleasure.

Skyfire could discover not a single grain of coercion or forcedness in either of their behaviour, the coupling as consensual as it could be, only their position looked strange, forced, reminding him of the true reasons for it. But both of them were obviously thoroughly enjoying the interface, so much so that even Skyfire’s core temperature started to rise and his spike twitched in its chamber.

Starscream turned his helm to the side, collapsing the inconvenient shoulder vent, and murmured something that was too low for the shuttle to hear, a smirk playing at the corner of his lipplates. But it must have been something teasing, because Silverbolt laughed, easily and sensual and pulling his digits from the Seeker’s valve, reached over to him and again using his size to his advantage presented the dripping appendages to the Seeker.

And Starscream… proud, indomitable, obnoxious and stuck-up Starscream didn’t screech or protest, but poking out his glossa he slowly, sensuously licked the steel-grey digits’ lengths and took them into his mouth, sucking them clean of his own lubricant. Skyfire watched it with jaw slightly hanging and he noticed that even the other two Seekers looked somewhat surprised by the events.

Silverbolt kept his servo there while he slowly pushed into the dripping valve. Starscream moaned low around the digits and bowed his back to give a better angle for the larger flier. The size of Silverbolt and the supple flexibility of Starscream together provided them with so much sensory data that both fliers nearly lost it right there. But then Silverbolt pulled out after a nanoklik’s pause and thrust back with force, Starscream keening as slight pain mixed into the pleasure. He was well-stretched at this point, but Silverbolt was simply… big. Wonderfully big.

The dark digits left Starscream’s mouth to grasp the wings’ edges, gently enough not to harm, but strong enough to be felt – and Silverbolt pulled Starscream back onto his spike, while he trust into the wet heat, obviously knowing well that he couldn’t harm the smaller Seeker. Skyfire’s own arousal was skyrocketing and he wasn’t sure which one of them he envied more, wanted more. He just… wanted. Someone.

The thrusts strong and fast, alternating with slow and shallow that made Starscream whine for more and Silverbolt complied, pounding the proud Air Commander into incoherent moans and words in a few breems. He wasn’t unaffected either; Skyfire noted the half-shuttered optics, the flushed faceplates and his own panting, moaning pleasure. The keening intensified and Starscream’s wings flexed out and up in Silverbolt’s servos. A few more deep, shattering thrusts that threw sparks on contact with his pelvic plate of the red aft, a pinch on the wingtip… and Starscream overloaded with a yell that sounded all too like _‘Boooolt’_.

Silverbolt followed him in a klik, his hips snapping forward a few time more before he leaned over onto the Seeker, mindlessly mouthing the neck that Starscream exposed to him, slumping forward, flush to the white plating. They more or less held and propped up each other, plating nearly fused by the heat, vents roaring and limbs laced together. 

Skyfire noted Thundercracker absentmindedly stroking Skywarp’s wings, the teleporter staring at his trine-leader’s coupling with mouth slightly open and panting slightly from his vents. The Aerialbots weren’t any better off with their servos all over each other’s wings and platings, throwing all decorum into the winds. The formality of the ritual was nearly completely gone with the mood of a dazed, hazy group orgy taking over it.

Silverbolt slowly straightened up, drawing Starscream with him before pulling out of his valve. His mouth was still at the Seeker’s neck and kissing was not a too far off description for what he was doing. And Starscream allowed him, which still surprised the shuttle greatly. He slowly turned in the bigger flier’s embrace, a soft smile on his lips and his own servos coming up to reciprocate. 

It all looked more like a lovers’ meeting than an impersonal, ritual coupling, driven by ages old coding. It thoroughly disabused Skyfire of his last, lingering doubts that it was in any way forced or coerced by the wily Seeker. His shame for accusing Starscream with rape rose up strongly and Skyfire knew that he must apologize, preferably soon. But he didn’t want to disturb the two fliers, so obviously feeling good with each other, even forgetting the audience.

“Bolt… was there a problem with your leaders? I know that the Prime is soft-sparked but the other… have they given you a hard time?”

“N-no… well, a bit. I was reprimanded for…” – Silverbolt sounded bitter – “…for consorting with the enemy and they pretty much made me feel like slag for not saying anything about it earlier.”

“Tell them to stuff it up their…” 

“But then Prime said we can still come and in the meanwhile they’d try to fix the coding.”

Starscream snorted and scowled at that.

“Good luck to them with that. Glitches haven’t even noticed the codes and now they believe they can fix them?”

Skyfire had to give him this; at the first simulation runs, they were all stumped at how the coding did what it did, other than being woven skilfully all over the fliers’ core codes, only noticeable since they were pointed out. Solution, if it would come would be neither easy, nor fast if they could do it at all. It was something else, he wanted to talk with the Seeker about… but he was even more surprised by Starscream’s next, barely audible question.

“Bolt… about what that slagger Thrust did… I’m sorry, I couldn’t come earlier.”

“It’s… I’m… would it have changed anything?”

“Yes. I’m his superior.” – Starscream scowled again – “It wasn’t his place to insist, he just tricked your coding and used your lack of knowledge about it. If he tries anything like that again, just remind him who he must defer to and comm me.” 

“Ohh… right. Thank you.”

They parted slowly, like they were reluctant to let each other go. The mood on the clearing was again friendly, the teams mixing and animatedly talking now that they could leave their places and mingle. Skyfire felt it was time for him to approach them too. He took wing and flew towards them, not hiding his approach and landing beside the suddenly parting, grouping fliers. As he came closer to them, Silverbolt looked angry and Starscream scowled, flicking his wings in a distinctly rude way. Skyfire understood both of them…

“I’m sorry to disturb you in this, but I felt that I have to apologize.” – he looked to Starscream’s optics straight and canted his wings forward and down – “I’m sorry that I accused you, Starscream. I was jumping into conclusions, but I know now that they were wrong.”

Starscream’s face hasn’t thawed out, but his wings pricked up slightly. 

“I broke your nice, preconceived views of me by being… normal? Because a Decepticon had to be a rapist bastard, right?”

“No! I mean after you shooting at me…”

“Because firing at someone who declares himself my enemy is in the same class as raping a youngling?!?”

“No, of course not…!”

“Then what made you think that I raped Silverbolt?”

Now, that was the old Starscream, with his well-known voice, able to cut steel and the sound level that could shatter rocks and the fliers present on the clearing all winced at the sound. Skyfire in fact backed off a step, not only because of the volume but because for a klik he was afraid that Starscream would – again, his processor whispered – resort to violence, even shooting.

“I… misunderstood the situation. I saw Bolt and… I didn’t think. Again, I’m sorry.”

Starscream _hmpf_ -ed haughtily but his wings lowered a few inches, the ailerons relaxing marginally. He was obviously appeased by Skyfire’s repeated apologies and apparently willing to forgive him. Eventually, Skyfire thought smugly, the Starscream he knew loved acting the drama queen and milk every situation to the fullest. A sky-blue servo snapped forward like a cobra striking and talons scratched four parallel, stinging lines on Skyfire’s left wing. He hissed but made no move to move it away. 

“I accept the apology, I suppose.” – Starscream conceded in a still dry tone – “Now… I don’t think you came because of that. Autobots rarely just seek out Decepticons to apologise, even if they are wrong. So what brought you here?”

Skyfire shifted, relieved that Starscream was so willing to take it easy and let him off with just a token injury to show his anger. He smugly thought that it might well have been the spectacular overload just a breem ago that mellowed out his former friend’s caustic wit.

“You are right, it was only half my reason. The other half being… the coding.”

“What about it? You’d do well to believe its existence, we never lied about it.” 

“No, not that! I believe you… but I’m worried. Ratchet is a good medic, a brilliant one even but this coding is really complex. I’m afraid that he can’t solve it. I’m also afraid my own activating incidentally. ”

“He can’t. He’s a grounder.” – Starscream shrugged – “But let him try. It won’t make any difference. And you… for you it isn’t hard. Just stay away from fighting.”

“That’s good to hear.” – Skyfire noted quietly – “But I’m not a grounder, have some coding knowledge and I came to offer my… help. I was led to believe that you’d want to see this ritual gone too. We’ve worked together in the past, and if I remember well, we made a fairly... _efficient_ team.”

Starscream’s lips twitched in a small smile, quickly suppressed. But his wings still quivered with barely hidden mirth, all the more obvious for the fliers around. Silverbolt looked from one to the other with a curious expression, wings twitching minutely. 

“I’d be… interested to hear about your history a bit more.” – the Concorde said, feeling for a nanoklik something not quite positive towards the big shuttle.

“Maybe one orn, Bolt… But Skyfire… work together? How do you imagine that? I remind you that we are on the opposite sides of the war, no matter that it never came up in this place. And don’t tell me that the Prime, or Prowl for that matter, sanctioned your… offer.”

“No, they haven’t.” – Skyfire wasn’t very comfortable about it, but he suppressed the guilty feelings – “But I consider this matter more important than a formal permission. It would be for us and it isn’t like the grounders have ever really understood us. Or even tried to.”

He waved towards the Aerialbots, worry and care obvious on his frame. Surprisingly enough, he saw flickers of the same thing in the Seekers’ frame language too, the strongest in Starscream, but the other two displaying protectiveness too. And there was that strange gentleness after the interface and their obvious enjoyment during it… Skyfire started to suspect that it went even deeper than wanting to spare younglings from unpleasant customs, at least for Starscream.

“And we do have our old comm frequency, the one we used during exploration. We can use that and meet here if needed.”

Starscream nodded, thinking it over. He was thousands of vorns older and more experienced than the first time he attempted a solution and Skyfire’s help could be useful too, much as he didn’t want to team up with the shuttle again. That Megatron would slag him for good if he ever discovered it was a given, but then, the tyrant has never particularly wanted to know details about this particular Seeker custom, so he might get away with it for some more. 

“It could work… do you have an idea where to start?” 

“I think it would be best to approach it from my coding, the way it was made dormant.”

Starscream shook his helm decisively. “Won’t work. Not in the middle of a war when we have to fight every so often. That solution worked only because the circumstances were special – and even so it took drastic measures from your ancestors back then.”

“But it is a point where we can start off... the only weak point of the coding so far.”

“Umm… sorry to interrupt you two…” – Silverbolt said nervously – “But we must go back. Prowl commed me three times in the last breem, sounding increasingly annoyed.”

“Go on then. It is not like we can start coding right now anyway and we should get back too, so as not to torque off the _Mighty Megatron_.”

Thundercracker nodded fervently, worried exactly about that eventuality. The fliers parted almost feeling sorry for it, a far cry from their earlier attitudes. It was like they almost became friends, tacitly leaving the war behind them and outside the peace of the meadow. Skyfire looked back as they were leaving, a strange thought playing in his processor… that the events on the clearing were all how things should be. From friendly playing, through cooperating and even fragging… they all felt more _right_ than fighting.


	10. Slingshot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "normal speech"  
>  _"private comm line"_  
>  _::bond/gestalt bond speech::_

“Hey guys, race you till the ocean?”

Slingshot wiggled his wings and rolled around Fireflight, startling the jet out of his reverie of watching the sun flash one by one on the thousands of angled solar panels underneath them. He dipped his nosecone, angling downwards and Slingshot’s manoeuvre made him wobble and protest.

“Sling, now I lost count of them!” – he exclaimed sadly, but forgetting it at once as his brother’s suggestion reached his preoccupied processor – “Race? Okay. I wanted to see the dolphins anyway.”

“I give you a breem advantage Slings!” – Air Raid butted in, knowing that it would rile up their smallest and slowest brother.

“I don’t need it!”

Skydive butted in: “I won’t give you any, so it’s okay!”

Skydive rarely got competitive, just like Silverbolt, but right now, they all felt like stretching their wings. The Aerialbots were coped up in the med-bay and the labs for several orns while the scientists went over their coding with a dense comb, trying to discern its function and methods. So, with no battle in sight, they took the opportunity for pure joyflying, with Skyfire as their unofficial chaperone, the shuttle floating much higher, where he felt more comfortable and wouldn’t disturb the youngsters’ silliness.

The four jets all got going at Silverbolt’s signal, pushing their engines and trying to find the shortest path towards the designated goal while avoiding collision with each other. They whooped, laughed and good-naturedly taunted each other as they raced towards the distant shoreline in the bright blue sky, occasionally shredding an unlucky fluff of cloud with their wings. Silverbolt followed them in a more sedate pace, not feeling up to straining his engines just to loose anyway – his strength was not speed that was for sure. 

What exactly it was, he still, after vorns of being the gestalt-leader wasn’t sure. He could only hope that it wasn’t as simple and base thing as sheer size. At times, the Concorde was unsure of himself and the all too frequent reprimands and disappointed glances from the officers were no help at all. If anything they showed that he couldn’t even keep his team out of trouble – although Silverbolt would very much like to know how any other mechs could deal with say Slingshot at one of his frequent temper tantrums or Fireflight’s attention wandering all over the place, or Air Raid daring anymech and himself to do completely ridiculous and highly things…

Seeing Starscream so naturally and authoritatively asserting his dominance over his Trine lately didn’t help Silverbolt’s lacking confidence either. The Seeker was just so... so sure of himself, something Silverbolt never had. True, there were times, like in some good, victorious battles, when he felt like a real leader. When his brothers were all in a good mood, not riled up by a careless grounder’s casual insult, not pissed off by imagined slights, then they acted like a true team and he dared to feel like its leader. 

But all too often that tranquil system got shaken or even broken and Silverbolt felt inadequate in the face of his brothers’ wildly differing personalities and strong wills. If not for Skydive taking his side and supporting him, he’d’ve lost his calm many times, the Concorde knew, and sometimes with dire consequences. As much as they were bonded and co-dependent on each other, it was just inconceivable to break up. 

Starscream never seemed to have the same problem, his thoughts returned to the Seeker, yet again. Whenever Silverbolt saw the trio of Seekers, his wingmates were always deferring to him, obeying him and only rarely did any of them, usually Skywarp, who even had a criticizing remark or an insolent joke. But even he shut up after a glower or a whack to the helm from Thundercracker or Starscream.

Silverbolt ached to ask the tricoloured Seeker, how he managed it; instinctly he knew that there was more to his coding than just flying and the ritual, there had to be something that dealt with socializing and Trine-forming and maintaining discipline within his team… but he knew that he shouldn’t ask. The Seekers were still Decepticons, enemy and he should not give any advantage to the Seekers, must not betray the weaknesses of himself and his team.

Besides… it might be that their methods wouldn’t work for him, or he wouldn’t want them to. After all, Decepticons were ruthless and Starscream looked the kind who’d enforce obedience with physical punishments – something Silverbolt couldn’t imagine to do with his brothers. But this answer, while having elements of rightness, still sounded false to his processor, incomplete, missing something that was important.

True, Starscream did look ruthless to the point of cruelty very often… but there was more to his Trine than just frightened and cowed underlings. Thundercracker didn’t look the kind to meekly submit and Skywarp had the same indomitable, irrepressible will like Air Raid. Both of them obeyed Starscream but at the same time they deferred to him, accepted his decisions and there was that feeling that they did because they considered their Trine leader competent enough to decide well and not just strong enough to dominate them. 

Then, there was a sense of camaraderie and tenderness too among them – well hidden, but Silverbolt saw a few caresses, gentle touches and the fondness that occasionally coloured their harsh words. And that was true even to Starscream, albeit he hid it best. So it wasn’t just strength that forced the Trine together and made Thundercracker and Skywarp obey their Trine-leader. Silverbolt wanted… no, craved to know how he did it. How he made them obey without a word but kept their gentler affections too. Instinctly, he knew that it was what made a good leader. Not the title.

Tearing himself out from his thoughts, doing a quick check on his team confirmed that they were still racing madly towards the ocean, so Silverbolt’s musings couldn’t have taken more than a few kliks. He sped up slightly, to catch up with them, smiling inwardly at their raucous laughter and teasing comments. He, like his brothers, luxuriated in the lack of battles, responsibility and flying for flying’s sake, even if he didn’t race.

“Hey Bolt, come on! We need you to declare the winner!”

“What, wasn’t it obvious?” – he had to admit, he didn’t pay that close attention to see who was the first. 

“You didn’t even watch?” – Fireflight’s voice was breathless from the exertion, tinged with disappointment.

Silverbolt cursed himself inwardly. He should have watched them, should have seen who won and thereby prevent the probably upcoming argument. Yet again, he failed them even if it was just a minuscule thing… he was just about to say sorry, when a tight-beam comm intruded to his thoughts.

_“Air Raid crossed the shoreline first, followed by Fireflight and Skydive tying for second.”_

_“Thanks, Skyfire…”_

_“There was no foul play, only some sly tricks from Slingshot. You’re welcome.”_ \- the shuttle’s voice was tinged with amusement and Silverbolt felt even more wretched. Skyfire wasn’t even part of the gestalt, but still paid more attention to his brothers than Silverbolt himself. But he steeled himself and trusted his voice not to betray any of his guilt and frustration…

“Air Raid, congratulations for the win. Slings, you did well and that manoeuvre was a brilliant touch.” – the latter part was a wild guess only, but Slingshot did tend to put fancy manoeuvres into his flying to make up for his slower speeds. He was glad to see them perking up visibly, and Fireflight, along with Skydive wasn’t sad for long for not winning. In fact the red-white jet was already skimming the waves, looking for his dolphins…

“You didn’t even WATCH!”

But Slingshot never took well when he lost. Too bad that he did nearly every time – his speed was not even on speaking terms with his ego. He was hovering in front of Silverbolt, thrusters angled downwards and growling with suppressed power, forcing the Concord to roll if he didn’t want to crash. Even the tight plates and his alt form lines showed how absolutely livid the Harrier was.

“I’m sorry…”

“You don’t care!”

“I do, Slingshot, I just… got lost in my thoughts for a klik…”

“Can it, Sling… you lost and that’s it.” – Air Raid, on the other servo acted sometimes like he lacked the slightest shred of empathy towards his slower brother. – “It’s not Bolt’s fault.”

“Only because he never races! He knows that he’d be the last!”

That made Silverbolt a bit angry. True, he was not the fastest of the gestalt, but it wasn’t why he never raced. He felt that it was wrong from the leader to do so… why, he wasn’t sure. Starscream probably raced a lot with his trine-mates… but then he was the fastest Seeker, so he had it easy. Silverbolt had a hazy notion that if he raced and lost, he’d be unworthy of being the gestalt leader.

“I just… don’t like to race.” – it sounded lame. Incredibly lame. Even though it was true, he wasn’t a racing type by nature and frame.

“You don’t like to join! Because you consider yourself MORE than us!”

“No, it’s not like that!”

“But it is, right? You are the _Air Commander_ …” – the words were sneered in a tone so bitter and angry, it made Silverbolt reel in the air. But hot anger was collecting in the pit of his fuel tank too. - “… or I should say a self-made one!”

“Slingshot!” – the strange, hot fury started to rise in the Concorde, more disturbing than in other times when Slingshot was obnoxious or insulting. But Silverbolt didn’t have time to think about it, discover what and why it was different this time.

“What?!? It isn’t like you have anything that makes you better!”

Slingshot shouted so angrily that he wobbled in the air and had to compensate harshly to stay in balance. As he angled his turbines delicately to return to his position he lost Silverbolt from his attention for a klik. The next thing he noticed was an angrily growling, huge frame flying over him, aggressively forcing him down. 

“What the slag…?”

He compensated and shot out from underneath Silverbolt’s bulk, shaken by the sudden, dangerous move. But he wasn’t in the clear yet, as the Concorde’s engines howled and the much bigger frame was onto him again, following him through every twist and turn Slingshot made, even though he clearly heard the overstretched metal’s groaning during some of them. Their engines were both roaring in their effort as they flew.

The comm was full of panicked, frightened and bewildered shouting but Slingshot had no time to listen to them, as Silverbolt – a new Silverbolt, cold, furious and pursuing him relentlessly – was on his tail and was apparently completely serious in trying to ground him. The Harrier tried to break out upwards, to loose Silverbolt in the heights he feared, but the Concorde was having none of it.

He saw flashes of Fireflight and Air Raid but they didn’t dare to interrupt them for fear of causing a collision or a crash. Silverbolt was deadly quiet, determined and ignoring his comm completely. He pushed himself to his limits and beyond and they were simply more than Slingshot’s. He couldn’t break away and he was running out of options. 

Then he felt the Concord’s weight clanging on his tailfin, the overstressed metal squealing underneath the pressure and he gave up resisting, letting Silverbolt herd him down, ground him and stand over his frame victoriously. They transformed but Slingshot’s _‘what the frag was that?’_ died in his vocalizer before he could utter it when he saw Silverbolt’s faceplates. 

Slingshot’s scratched, battered wings folded back to disappear behind him and his turbines whined softly. The brash jet was completely cowed by the utter fury on Silverbolt’s normally calm expression. Even the voice was booming stentorian and promising retribution.

“You dared to challenge me?” 

Slingshot couldn’t answer for a few kliks, optics widening in shock. It wasn’t like he’s never criticized Silverbolt or jabbed him for his lack of speed, his fear of heights and whatever he thought he could get away with at the particular moment. So what the frag made him so furious about it now…?

“I… uhh… I just… no…!”

“I sounded fragging well a challenge to me!”

Silverbolt was leaning over him, fully utilizing his greater frame to frighten him and his wings spread out fully, flexing as far as they could. Slingshot could only make himself small and take a tentative step backwards, ready to bolt if Silverbolt meant business. He couldn’t quite imagine it, not really, but the Concord did look furious.

“I’m… sorry?”

“Sorry is not nearly enough!”

“Bolt, what are you…” – Skydive spoke up hesitantly, while Fireflight and Air Raid landed and were watching them with utter disbelief.

“You, all of you shut up! I won’t let a challenge go!”

Silverbolt pushed Slingshot’s shoulder, shoving him backwards. Slingshot let him and tried not to show too much protesting, worried about the sudden, unfamiliar scenario. But when Silverbolt grabbed his shoulder in a strong grip, spinning him around to be with his back to the Concord, he started to worry. The bigger servos moved to his wings uncomfortably, forcing his upper frame forward… and Slingshot suddenly realized what it had to be. It was impossible, but still…

He hesitantly started to bend forward and was rewarded by a satisfied growl form behind as Silverbolt was suddenly over his smaller frame, straddling his hips, servos roughly handling his wings. Slingshot knew the position, saw it several times by this time with the Seekers, but he never would have thought to be in it himself. Within the gestalt they had, of course interfaced a lot in many different pairs, roles and combinations… but this one felt something else entirely.

It felt… forced, colder, more formal than any play of this kind they’d ever engaged with. Even though Silverbolt’s plate rubbing on his and the grips on his wings that shifted to rough scratching started to arouse him slightly, he was still uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Silverbolt to act so roughly, to force one of them – but as the insistent touches continued to warm him up, he felt the coding awaken too. 

It whispered him, telling him that he should not irk his team leader, should not challenge him over trivial matters. Challenge was a serious thing, he suddenly discovered as a great deal of information-coding-protocols package suddenly became active in his meta, overwhelming him so much that even Silverbolt’s ministrations became secondary for a few kliks. The chaotic fear in the gestalt bond quietened as they all perceived the situation in the new light.

He felt awe from his brothers as the package was opened, observed and internalized in all of them. It was… Slingshot supposed, like growing up suddenly, as he now saw his former behaviour. It looked childish now to rile up his leader for nothing that necessitated in this act of dominance, of putting him back to his place. The Harrier scowled inwardly, he could never accept the limitations of his frame that put him to such a disadvantage among his brothers. 

_::Even the smallest, slowest is needed just like the biggest or fastest.::_ \- the thought came from all around, even from Silverbolt’s processor, hazy as it was with the coding’s influence. _::No limb is lesser than any others.::_ It reverberated within the gestalt link, reinforced with reassurances and certainty, coloured with care and love. _::Structure in the Trine is no shame. We all have our roles.::_

Slingshot usually just snorted at such utterances and shrugged them off as false assurances, but now, with the new protocols, it rang with deep truth he simply had to accept. The protocol was a bit shaky, because it kept insisting on a Trine’s structure, but it worked just as well for the gestalt, so they understood the concepts. The structure of the gestalt was outlined in bright lines. The formations they used to fly and which so often chafed Air Raid and Slingshot as restrictive and unnecessary suddenly made sense.

They had always been a unit; being a gestalt they couldn’t not to be one – but now they saw the structure, its reason and its consequences too. Silverbolt fondling his wings after forcing him out of the air was just as much part of it as cuddling together or flying in formation. Fragging, that so far was just a fun pastime acquired a new layer of meaning – domination from the leader and submitting from them, creating the complex structure within the Trine… gestalt. 

Slingshot, after getting over his awe over the sudden changes felt the attention from his team-leader even stronger. His core temperature grew and he couldn’t fully silence the moan that slipped past his lipplates as Silverbolt continued to rub his pelvis onto his aft. His plate snapped open and silent approval streamed towards him from the gestalt link, support and love along with a sense that everything was all right and proper this way. 

He didn’t fight any more with his own impulses and instincts. They seemed to have melted away anyway, the new awareness overwrote them, mellowed out the frustrated anger, the lack of confidence that Slingshot has always struggled with. He rocked backwards into Silverbolt and smeared lubricant on the spike he knew well. Digits prepared him carefully while his wings, conveniently set backwards were caressed. The slight unease and bemusement was slowly dissipating from the gestalt link, giving way to internalized protocols and growing arousal.

He was fully aroused and dripping lubricants by the time Silverbolt slowly pushed into his valve and it didn’t hurt. It never hurt, truth to be told, but then, they never fragged in quite this position, so Slingshot had a tiny, lingering unease because of it. But it too was gone fast as the big spike stretched him wide and rubbed over all the sensory nodes in his valve, swamping his processor with completely magnificent sensations.

Silverbolt’s servos trembled as well on his wings but the Concorde was careful still, holding back and not using his full strength. Among the sea of changes, one thing remained the same; Slingshot’s impatience, and the Harrier ground his aft back to impale himself onto the big spike. They moaned in tandem as he did that and Slingshot felt a little remorse from Silverbolt, who apparently was starting to come to himself after the sudden daze of the coding. 

“It’s… slag, it even makes sense…” – Slingshot panted out the words – “Don’t worry, Bolt…”

He let his own feelings into the gestalt link, to make Silverbolt see that while it was fairly sudden and surprising as the Pit, he still didn’t mind it. He felt more peace and satisfaction than ever before. It was surprising, but even the obvious submission didn’t bother him. Somehow… it felt right. Which was strange but amidst the rising charge it was increasingly hard to be bothered by such things. 

Silverbolt thrust faster as he felt his brother relax and accommodate him, his own doubts also swamped by the arousal he felt. Only a small, nagging worry sneaked at the background, his natural gentleness bothered by the aggressive way he forced Slingshot to submit to him. His coding was stronger by this time, brought forward by the frequent interfaces with Starscream, but it was the first time it acted up within the gestalt, among his brothers and as strange as it was, it still felt like a missing piece to answer his earlier questions. 

He realized, while thrusting into the moaning and writhing Slingshot, that it really was the way, or a large part of the way Starscream held his Trine firmly in servo. It wasn’t the force or Primus forbid physical punishment, but the firm nailing down of the roles and positions within the unit, the structure clearly defined and frequently reinforced. His Autobot upbringing felt ashamed by it, to use such an intimate act for such a purpose – but his Seeker codes rebelled against that shame and told him in no uncertain terms that it was natural, it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of – in fact it was what made them superior to grounders. 

Silverbolt didn’t feel particularly superior to ground mechs, but the rest of it felt true. Again, his processor brought up the picture of Starscream, submitting to him as easily as he dominated, enjoying the Pit of the audience and showing off to them as well. And he couldn’t find a prouder, more obnoxious flier anywhere than Starscream, so it must be true. It helped a little, but he still felt bad for dominating poor Slingshot so suddenly… but at least now he knew why.

The smallest Aerialbot was particularly grating on his nerves in the best of times and his criticism has always bordered on what his coding now recognized as outright challenge. The changes that started with the first interfaces with Starscream and other Seekers culminated in this situation – away from every other mechs, away from battles, and so being only among themselves; and Slingshot lashing out in this particular way to be perceived as challenger.

“Bolt… fraggit… need more…”

Slingshot panted and Silverbolt realized that during his musings, he slowed down and the smaller jet was squirming underneath impatiently. Well, at least some things hasn’t changed… Silverbolt sped up his thrusts, doubling his efforts and pulling the Harrier back, onto his spike. The increased friction made them both moan and delete the annoying thoughts, relegating them to later. 

All too soon Slingshot shouted out in his climax and the tightening calipers threw Silverbolt into overload as well. The Harrier sagged, groaning at the sudden weight on his back and Silverbolt collected himself so as not to crush Slingshot with his bulk. He pulled out and hissed as the smaller jet playfully tightened his valve around him once more. When they straightened up, it was an uneasy, hesitating silence on the shore with the others standing around bemused and a little bit afraid.

Skyfire stood behind them and looked to Slingshot with deep sympathy and a little trepidation for himself. Slingshot glowered back, lingering shame and newfound confidence flashing in his optics, but refusing the shuttle’s pity.

“Well… that was unexpected.” – Air Raid was a bit subdued than usually too – “Will you do that a lot from now on?”

Slingshot’s faceplates were flaming and he suddenly looked like wanting to be smaller. With his build it wasn’t very successful.

“I hope not… it was…” – he shrugged helplessly – “I don’t know. I just suddenly felt like that I have to.”

“We felt that too…” – Fireflight spoke up in his usual, light, innocent tone - “There was something like… Trine? But we aren’t a Trine…”

“There has never been a flier gestalt before you.” – Skyfire added helpfully, deep in his thoughts – “The coding probably only knows Trines as flier units.”

“Yeah, right. So we are a… dysfunctional Trine now?” 

Air Raid looked slightly pissed and not a little rebellious. But Silverbolt felt that it wasn’t against him, just the unwanted influence of the coding. Air Raid wouldn’t be Air Raid if he had just accepted it without grumbling…

“No… I think we can adapt it to us…”

“Do we want to…? Do we NEED to?”

“I can’t see a way to turn it off.” – Skydive’s voice was calm and thoughtful – “It is the same coding that causes the ritual. Only a different part I guess… dealing with our ranking over each other. It is logical to have this within the Trine… we all saw the Seekers.”

“Yeah… it does feel the same thing.”

Silverbolt was rapidly gaining confidence as the coding solidified and it reverberated within the gestalt bond. Leader, first wing, second wing… and of course fourth and fifth for them too. Frame, limbs and Superion. Structure and discipline. Order and affection. Dominance and submission. Leading and following. Care and protection. The formerly chaotic ideas fell into place, like a huge mosaic, detailing form and function, while leaving their individual personalities intact and free.

“It is… all right I guess.” – Slingshot offered, fighting down the hesitance in his voice. His wings twitched as he stopped resisting the coding, the ideas – “Umm… Bolt… sorry. I really didn’t mean to challenge you.”

“Slings…” – Silverbolt wanted to say that he was sorry, that he forced it, that he initiated it… but he couldn’t – “…accepted.” – he finished it lamely.

“So what now?”

“What? Nothing. We aren’t really different.” – Slingshot suddenly grinned at them – “Maybe we’ll frag a bit more from now on.”

Skydive snickered and the mood suddenly lifted, leaving them feel light and cheerful again. The coding slowly became less overbearing as the challenge situation was solved and it wasn’t needed any more. 

“Then I want to see the dolphins.” – Fireflight pouted, the whole issue already sinking into the background compared to really important things like the shiny earthen mammals he so loved to watch. Amusement spread through the gestalt link and broke out in smiles on their faceplates.

“Let’s go and see dolphins then.” – Silverbolt said firmly and took off. His team followed him to the air, unconsciously shifting into precise formation around his bigger frame, displaying unusual precision in it. 

Skyfire lingered a few more kliks on the ground, watching them rise and smiling through his worries. They took it better than it looked the first few breems. Hopefully it’d help Silverbolt to overcome his issues and insecurities without brewing trouble for his brothers. He was eager to see the coding again, to check how it changed, how it became even more than they had first thought.

The coding certainly made more sense now than at the beginning, with all its aggressiveness and dominance. At the same time its complexity and its presence even within the gestalt made him uncertain whether they could really diffuse it ever. It seemed so much core coding for the fliers, so much defining and helping them to be what they were, that Skyfire was worried now whether the fliers could actually function without it. Unbidden, another thought rose in the shuttle's processor. If it was so much necessary for fliers... then could he be actually a dysfunctional one lacking it?

And that was a scary thought.


	11. Starscream

Skyfire decided after five orns that he’s had enough. Perceptor and Ratchet was up to their neck-struts in the Aerialbots’ codes and seemingly hasn’t even heard the shuttle’s hesitant theories and suggestions about the coding being perfectly normal, core coding, similar to the protocols that all mechs had about social conduct. Maybe a bit more extreme and unusual, but still, it wasn’t like something unnatural forced on them.

The more Skyfire observed and fiddled with the flier protocols the more they seemed a necessary part of them that should not and probably must not be purged carelessly. After all, the Aerialbots changed obviously for the better since their coding was awakened and no matter what some of the crew muttered about them consorting with the enemy and being possible traitors, they were calmer, more effective and more… grown up was the perfect expression to it in Skyfire’s view. 

He couldn’t really understand how some Bots could call them traitors. Since the post-battle rituals started, the Aerialbots’ performance definitely got better and since the gestalt-part of it was activated, they became so effective and cohesive that Skyfire almost felt sorry beforehand for the Seekers in the next battle. They were sure up to an unpleasant surprise from the gestalt. 

But Ratchet could not be convinced of this. The medic saw the codes as abnormal, the ritual as barbaric and cruel and the Seekers, including Starscream as brutes out to ravish the poor younglings, meaning the Aerialbots. Despite of clear evidence otherwise and the Silverbolt’s own admission to the opposite, he still considered them victims of the ritual and was working feverishly on neutralizing the coding that caused it. And Perceptor… the little scientist as usual saw it as a problem to solve, disregarding the mechs it involved and the way it did so as irrelevant. 

Strange as it may seem, Skyfire mused as he was flying high above the planet surface, but it seemed that Starscream was the only mech involved who actually had the Aerialbots’ best interest in processor. For the shuttle easily admitted that his own main goal and concern was his involvement in the matters, his own coding to keep dormant and spare him the dreaded outcome had he one orn met with Blast Off again.

It was something Skyfire shared with no other mech, not even Starscream, his one secret that he intended to take with him to the Well. The fellow shuttle… and Skyfire snorted and wobbled on his flight path at the innocent-sounding classification for the Decepticon, so Blast Off was his secret and his shame – well, he guessed Starscream’s friendship was considered shameful by the other Autobots, but to know that there was even more too… no, it didn’t bear to think about.

The clearing close, Skyfire shook off the memories and started to ascend. Starscream was already there, calmly sitting on a boulder and typing away on a complex-looking, expanded, scientific datapad he brought with him. The Decepticon Air Commander didn’t even look up when Skyfire landed, his claws lightly clinking on the datapad’s black surface; but he scowled briefly and his right wing twitched minutely, serving as greeting for the landing shuttle. 

Skyfire didn’t take it personal, since it was as much an acknowledgement from the Seeker as he ever got; Starscream only ever attacked problems by devoting a hundred percent of his attention - or more - to them, leaving no mental capacity for inane things like greetings, small talk or other irrelevant niceties. He was in a nearly pristine condition, sporting hardly a dent on his plating, indicating that he had not had a serious spat with Megatron lately.

“Tell me that those slagheads didn’t glitch the younglings.”

“Why would you think so? Nothing was achieved so far by the way.”

Starscream looked up for exactly two point five nanokliks, just enough time to call it a glower. His wings froze into their normal movement for the same time before resuming their shushing, accompanying his thoughts he continued to input to the datapad.

“You are tense and worried. Since you are neither in general, I presumed something went wrong.”

“The codes acted up within the gestalt.” – Skyfire admitted – “Silverbolt grounded Slingshot and dominated him.”

Starscream’s helm snapped up and he smiled suddenly before resuming his typing. It was a surprisingly deep, sparkfelt smile, not his usual smirk, showing once again just how much he cared about the Aerialbot leader.

“Good.”

“Good?!”

“Yes. It’s good.”

“How is that good? It means that the codes are more intrinsic than we’d thought! It means they might not be purged or altered! It means they can’t get rid of them, and they are not fully trusted now as it stands! It means I might succumb to it and I START FRAGGING…” – by the end Skyfire was nearly shouting, his legendary calm nearing to its end with worry, premonitions and memories. –“… ummm… somemech!”

“Do go on Skyfire.” – the Seeker’s scratchy voice, opposing to the shuttle’s, was dry and unemotional and he grinned lopsided by the unusual situation – “Best if you blow off your steam now, before you start doing… unwise things.”

“How can you be so calm about it? I thought… I thought you and Silverbolt… umm…”

“Me and Silverbolt… what?” Starscream’s optics flashed darkly, angrily. But Skyfire noticed that his wings remained frozen, like he didn’t want to reveal anything. 

“Umm… I mean I thought that you… cared about him. Uhhh… about them, I mean.”

“I do. But their coding activating fully is actually a good thing. It means they grew up to act like adults in the Trine. I mean that gestalt.” – he paused in his clicking for a nanoklik – “At last.”

Skyfire stared at the Seeker incredulously, before realizing that he was actually right in this and it was something he, himself noticed about the Aerialbots. 

“Now, will you help me at all, or not? If yes, then plant your aft here, grab that datapad and stop procrastinating.” 

Skyfire shut up, sat down and stopped procrastinating.

-o-o-o-

The next time they met Skyfire brought Silverbolt with him too. Starscream requested it, wanting to see the Aerialbot leader’s changed coding firsthand instead of copied onto a datapad. Skyfire suspected that the Seeker wanted to see the Concord personally too, but he made no mention of it. They had to field some nasty accusations before they left; the shouting match with Gears, Tracks and Sunstreaker was highly unpleasant and nearly drove Silverbolt to tears and Skyfire into outright violence. It was only Prowl’s interruption that stopped the arguments and sent the mechs away, letting them to leave the Ark.

Silverbolt looked like he never wanted to return if not for his brothers and he complained during their flight continually, rambling about fragging, suspicious, block-headed groundpounders in a way that strongly reminded Skyfire to a certain Seeker. The young Aerialbot was definitely and strongly channelling Starscream and it made the shuttle’s mood lift with secret mirth, overriding even his worry about the matter itself, the Autobots’ prejudices towards fliers. 

But the foul mood was like deleted without a mark when they landed and Starscream looked up from his work. Skyfire actually stumbled, seeing that the Seeker actually stood up and smiled at Silverbolt, who completely shed the grumbling-complaining air by this time. They looked like lovesick younglings… for all of three kliks, before remembering who they were and Skyfire’s presence, getting back to collecting their expressions.

Skyfire wanted to laugh, but refrained from it – had he done so, he was sure to get a null-ray into his faceplates again with Silverbolt might just joining to Starscream. The Concord was obviously looking forward to some more than a discussion about codes and Starscream looked perfectly willing to accommodate that…

“I actually had a proposal to make.” – Starscream said suddenly, when the lengthening silence threatened to swallow them all up. – “Skyfire can check it, but I’m fairly sure that it’d work.”

He tossed the datapad to Skyfire who caught it and started to scroll through the lines of codes, so precise and clean, unlike what every mech thought Starscream to write.

“What is it about?” – Silverbolt enquired politely, clearly unsure what he should do.

“It’s not a solution… just a little something that might work to help you.”

“Ohh…” – Silverbolt didn’t even try to ask how. Coding was a complete blind spot for him and he never even tried to learn it. He had to trust Starscream and Skyfire for it to work and to be safe – and the Concord discovered that he did indeed trust them. 

“Starscream… it’s brilliant.” – Skyfire looked up from the datapad – “And I can’t see any errors either.”

“You shouldn’t.” – Starscream’s voice was dry but not inimical and the compliment mellowed him even further – “I had it uploaded to my system and there haven’t been any malfunctions. Now it only needs to be tested live.”

“You dared to do that… again?”

“TC monitored me during it. Don’t worry, Fire, I’m a bit more cautious now than megavorns ago.” – unspoken was the addendum that he was extra careful because of Silverbolt too. He so wasn’t going to say that. Even though Skyfire looked as though he guessed anyway…

“I see…”

“So… do you agree that it’s safe enough to add to Silverbolt’s coding?”

“I… do, but we shouldn’t do it now. Not until Ratchet and the officers had a look at it. I’m sorry, Starscream… I’d trust you in this, but they wouldn’t and Bolt’s place is shaky enough now as it is. Red Alert would declare him to be reprogrammed if I allowed this to be uploaded to his systems.”

Starscream’s wings rose and quivered tautly more and more by the klik while Skyfire spoke. By the end he was nearly shaking with anger.

“Stupid, idiot grounders!” – he hissed through tightly clenched denta.

“Starscream… you are an enemy. A Decepticon….”

“We are FLIERS!”

“Not for them, no. I mean they don’t understand that it is more important. They see that mark…” – Skyfire pointed a blunt digit to the purple logo on Starscream’s wings – “…and they see an enemy. You can’t blame them not trusting you.”

“But it’s not just me, right?” – Starscream snarled – “They don’t trust you and Bolt and his team either… they don’t trust YOU saying that this little protocol is harmless… and you are an Autobot.”

Skyfire looked back sadly. It was true. He has never been fully trusted, because of his affiliation with Starscream, because his very-very brief tenure as a Decepticon, no matter the circumstances, and because wings in general translated as suspicious war-frames for most grounders anyway. Rarely has any mech said it outright, usually just an angry minibot who told the same for other Autobots too; but the shuttle felt it none the less.

Silverbolt looked from one to the other and had felt within his processor that Starscream was right. They really weren’t trusted. True, the shared ritual was outrageous in war-terms, to have such intimate, vulnerable relationship with enemy soldiers, but still… was his team ever truly trusted by the Autobots, even before these events?

“They have their reasons…”

“No, don’t defend them. I’m not really interested in hearing that.”

Starscream stepped away, preparing to take off and waved towards the datapad in Skyfire’s servo.

“Show it to them then and let them decide. See if I care any more.”

He scowled deeply, wings angled in a way showing his dissatisfaction, a bit of hurt and sadness, but he nodded to Silverbolt before leaving. His sigh was the last thing they heard before remaining on the suddenly empty-looking clearing.

“Slag.”

Slag adequately summarised the situation in Silverbolt’s optics. 

-o-o-o-

Ratchet gaped at the datapad after reading through it three times. He couldn’t believe it. He read the lines the fourth time, Skyfire patiently standing in front of him, repressing an uncharacteristic scowl, carefully keeping his wings neutral, even though the medic wasn’t able to read them all that well.

“So?”

“It was written by… Starscream?” – the medic finally managed to speak up through his shock.

“Yes.”

“Why… why would he do something like this? How? He is just a…”

“I suggest not to finish that sentence, Ratchet.” – Skyfire rumbled – “Starscream wrote this and he did because he wanted to help.”

“Help. A Decepticon. A Seeker. **Starscream**!”

“Yes.” – he could have said a number of things, Skyfire knew, but he settled for a single, terse affirmation, underlined by the slight flaring of his wings. Let Ratchet realize his short-sightedness on his own.

Ratchet passed the datapad to the arriving Prowl like it was going to explode. The SIC was appraised about the issue and without further enquiries he started to scroll through the codes’ lines, checking it carefully.

“It looks acceptable to me.” – he declared after finishing. – “Should be run through the simulation but I see no reason to refuse it because of the source.”

“He had to have a hidden agenda with it! Something he hid in it, or I don’t know.”

“That is why we are checking it, Ratchet.”

“It’s impossible that Starscream would do something… purely benevolent!”

“He would… for a fellow flier.” – Skyfire was honestly surprised by the enmity and distrust Ratchet showed towards the Seeker.

“I’m not disclosing personal information, but I believe that Starscream has very compelling reasons to see this coding gone or weakened.”

Skyfire looked at the Praxian interested. The wording was carefully neutral and unrevealing but it hinted something that Prowl knew about Starscream and what would cause the Seeker to act favourably, even not considering Silverbolt. He was itching to know what it was but Prowl wouldn’t say it.

“Then… do you agree that it is harmless?”

“Yes.”

“Ratchet? Perceptor?”

“I can’t find anything. Doesn’t mean there is nothing!”

Perceptor nodded as he was running the packet through the simulation they’d created for this purpose. It was running smoothly, acting exactly as was its purpose without any hiccups.

“Tell me once more what it is supposed to do?” – Optimus Prime was also apprised of the developments.

“It doesn’t change the coding itself, but attaches a special protocol to it. The packet effectively defines the two armies and prevents cross-faction interfaces, while leaving the coding itself untouched.”

“Basically, it tells their coding that ‘ _no, you don’t frag the enemy, no matter what’_.” – Ratchet grumbled, still unsure if it was supposed to do just that. In his experience, Starscream just wasn’t a philanthrope to provide altruistic help for Autobots. 

“It sounds beneficial to me.”

“It is. Ratchet, it is beneficial to Starscream too. He would be in far more danger, has Megatron ever discovered him consorting with us. And he already uploaded it to his system.”

“I suppose so…”

“Then we can agree to implement it…?” – Skyfire looked at Optimus Prime, who had the call to make the final decision. 

“If you checked everything and found it safe…?” – Optimus Prime looked around his scientists and took in their nods – “…then it can be implemented.”

“We’ll monitor Silverbolt for a while and not let them combine until it is determined to be harmless. That way we can revert it should the need arise.”

“Right. Make it so, then.”

-o-o-o-

Another orn, another battle. Things on Earth went like a broken clockwork, repeating itself, jumping forward, idling for a while… before starting the circle again. The Cons attacked energy-sources or laboratories, the Autobots went to protect the humans and help them, boot out the Decepticons and not see them until next time. It became incredibly tedious after the first few stellar cycles, the battles becoming nearly boring, despite of the danger.

Silverbolt knew deep down just how this battle was going to start, develop and end. It was always the same, the only difference being the individuals who got injured, the amount of damage to the humans’ structures – and most importantly the aerial battle that he came to enjoy as the only true variable in the skirmishes.

The two Seeker trines and an occasional triplechanger against his gestalt, the twins’ Jet Judo and sometimes Powerglide’s antics. It was usually an even match which could go to either way, at least since the Aerialbots’ flying improved and their confidence grew. In short, since the ritual started. Silverbolt almost hated these orns to give them the order to combine, as Superion was not, despite of his ability to lift off and move in the air, a flier, has not got the same joy of flying as the rest of them and the Concord privately considered him as an unfair advantage over the Seekers. 

So he usually kept the gestalt in their individual forms while contending with the Seekers in the air and only combined if it was needed against one of the Decepticon combiners. Which was needed this time, as Bruticus threatened the small group of minibots, forced them into a tight spot and the twins were off to chase the Seekers. So Superion formed and pummelled the other giant mech away from his fellow Autobots, occupying him until the minibots could retreat.

Then Bruticus came apart, unable to take the damage combined any more and Silverbolt too gave the order to separate. He was worried a little, since the twins sounded far too victorious in the comm lines, and he saw an empty sky over the raging battle on the ground, a little further from their position. Where was Starscream? He squashed the thought quickly, hoping that his brothers didn’t catch it. 

Skydive did though, he saw the curious glance thrown towards him, but they had no time to discuss it and Silverbolt rather hoped that Dive would forget it by the time they returned to the Ark. They fell into the fray, strafing and shooting the Cons until they heard the order that ended all battles; Megatron roaring them to retreat. And it was a clear victory for them, undisputed and firm and Silverbolt swept his sensors around to find the Seekers, to test that little package that was added just before they left, transforming to be able to face them for real when he found them…

Starscream rose into the air drawing a thick line of smoke behind him, one of his turbines coughing out noxious fumes, his wingmates hovering close to him. The blue and red optics caught each other across the battlefield and during an eternally long klik unspoken emotions soared across the distance. Silverbolt felt worry for the Seeker’s injury, elation about winning and awareness of his brothers – but nothing else. The victory was not joined by an inexorable pull of wanting to dominate the loosing Seeker, no force awakened that tried to make him do something he didn’t want to.

He saw the brief flash of satisfaction in the red optics and Starscream nodded to him once tightly, across the distance. Silverbolt smiled in return, just a little one, tight and easily suppressed and nodded back before the Seekers left the field of battle, ostensibly not towards their little clearing, but behind the disappearing Megatron, towards the sunken Nemesis. 

Silverbolt landed by Optimus Prime and confirmed to his hesitant question that yes it worked and everything was just fine… not particularly wanting to talk about the details here, among the other mechs. It worked, they could see it and the matter was solved, as far as the officers were concerned. He hoped so.

But he couldn’t shake off a tiny little disappointment for being unable to see Starscream outside battles any more. Couldn’t talk to the snarky Seeker and miss that raspy tone that, despite of what the others thought, told him interesting, deep and thoughtful things. Couldn’t feel the Seeker’s desire suffusing his field, his slighter frame trembling under – or over his own any more… 

Silverbolt flew towards the Ark with his brothers in tow, absentmindedly listening to their animated chatter. He didn’t feel like joining in, he had too much to think about. He should be happy, they’ve won the battle and had the ritual stopped, his consorting with the enemy ended and the Autobots would hopefully start trusting them now. But he wasn’t. He wanted very much to turn back and fly to that little clearing and hope Starscream would be there.

Later that night cycle, when his brothers were all in recharge he did just that.


	12. Fireflight

_warning for alt-mode interface if that's something one doesn't like..._

\-----------------------------------------------

“Dive… Dive! Wake up!”

Skydive lifted his helm groggily. He’s just gone to recharge after reading the datapad Prowl lent him for half the night cycle and his optic shutters felt like weighing a ton. Each. 

“Whatsit… whostha’?’

Air Raid sneaked around the berth in the dark, squatting by Skydive’s helm. Fireflight was behind him and Slingshot lingering by the door.

“Dive, have you seen Bolt? Was he called away?”

“N-no… why? Where is he?”

“That’s exactly the problem” – Air Raid answered him, his blue optics dimming in the darkness – “We don’t know. He’s not in his room and he shouldn’t have a shift now.”

“Well, try the gestalt link.” – Skydive’s voice acquired a little annoyed tinge. Really…

“We have, wiseguy. He blocked it.”

“Then the comm.” – Skydive was waking up slowly but still not worried. More annoyed for the snark in fact.

“Blocked too.” – it was Slingshot’s dry voice crackling from the door – “Really, how many kinds of idiots do you take us for?”

“Can it, Slings, I’ve just onlined. Forgive me a bit of what you do all the time.”

“We are worried, Dive…” – Fireflight was whining worriedly and Air Raid immediately started to caress his wings to calm him. – “He’s gone and noone knows where. Anything could have happened!”

“I’m sure nothing bad happened to him…”

“How can you be sure!?!”

“Okay, not sure, just… I bet he’s snuck out to think about Starscream.”

None of his brothers answered to that for a good few kliks, nearly a breem.

“Come on guys, you must have noticed it too!” – Skydive snapped impatiently – “The googly optics, the flaring wings, the not-quite-forced fragging… nothing gives?”

“Well… they did enjoy it lately…”

“And Dive is right, those stares were outright sappy…”

“I always watch the Seekers’ wings… and he kept them flared all the time for Bolt.”

“Like he wanted them to be molested.” – Slingshot snickered.

“Which Bolt happily and enthusiastically did…” – Air Raid would have waggled his brow plates had he been able to. He made do with what he had though.

“So do you think he’s gone to… mope?” – Fireflight sat up in Air Raid’s embrace, his worry starting to dissipate. – “That’s it?”

“Well… I think so. We can’t meet the Seekers now that the coding is fixed.”

“Yeah… so we don’t have to worry at all?”

“I believe he’ll be back by the next cycle. If not… we’ll still have time to find him.”

“Hey Dive! Ever thought of what would’ve happened if Bolt went down?”

“What do you mean, Slings?”

“Weeell… you know that Thundercracker took Starscream’s place when he was out of it?”

“Ewwww….”

“That’s what I mean!” – Slingshot finished with a leery grin. – “You are the… how did the coding call it… second wing. After Bolt.”

The smile froze on Skydive’s faceplates and suddenly he was very-very glad that the coding was fixed. Just thinking about _Starscream_ on top of… nonononono! Don’t think about that! He scrambled for something to overwrite the mental pictures, anything…

“Bolt never got shot down. Fortunately. I can’t even imagine… I don’t want to!”

“I could imagine Skywarp actually…”

All three helms whipped around to stare at the dreamy-looking Fireflight in various states of shock.

“FLIGHT!”

“Flight?!”

“What did you just say?”

“What…? Why are you angry, Raid?” – Fireflight felt hurt that his brother suddenly vacated his place by him and stopped hugging. – “Don’t tell me you never imagined them that way?”

“I don’t.” – Slingshot’s glare was reproaching. – “They are DECEPTICONS!”

“Nor have I.” – Skydive was a little less angry, but still pretty much freaked out by their brother’s admission. The both of them looked to watch Air Raid expectantly. – “It would be… improper.”

“Uhh… well, I… must admit… the thought did cross my processors.” – Air Raid shrugged apologetically – “Skywarp is hot… for a Decepticon of course.”

“See?” – Fireflight looked back at them with an _Itoldyouso_ expression, totally oblivious of their anger.

“Fireflight. NO dallying with the Seekers. Especially with Skywarp. That mech is… irresponsible.”

Air Raid snorted, not unkindly – “Because Flight is that sensible most of the time…”

“But that’s my point! The two of them together… it doesn’t bear thinking of.”

“True that.”

Fireflight pouted a bit but got over it fast. He could never hold on an emotion for long.

“So what do we do? Find Bolt or let him alone?”

“I guess we should let him… he’ll come back soon I expect and he needs this time alone.”

His brothers agreed and went back to their rooms for the night cycle. But Fireflight couldn’t recharge and after a few cycles of thinking he snuck out to watch the moonlight on the desert. Despite of Skydive’s reasoning and assurances, he was still worried about Silverbolt and somehow guessing that it wasn’t quite ‘alone-time’ that the Aerialbot leader needed. They all had a tendency to get that on top of the volcano, close enough for the Ark in case they were needed. None of them had the habit of flying alone, away from the ship and the others, what Silverbolt had done now.

No, Fireflight thought, Bolt was probably meeting with Starscream and maybe Skyfire too again, for some reason he didn’t want his brothers to know. Since last time, their relationship changed a tiny bit, became just a tad bit more formal, uneasy and stricter. But he’d definitely gone to that clearing they came to know well… and something, a deep instinct told the young jet to go there too. He stood, hesitating to wake up one of his brothers again but decided against it – he would go alone, it wasn’t that dangerous lately. 

But then, he saw the moonlight twinkle on some calm, deep lakes and went to find some more lakes, then the sea, to see if it mirrored the silvery light differently… and he quickly lost both his way and the reason why he set out in the first place. It was so calm without the everpresent chatter in the comm and he could really concentrate on the pretty night-sights. He hasn’t even noticed how low he got…

That is, until a purple flash of energies blinding his sensors in the darkness of the night surprised him so much that Fireflight wobbled in the air and lost the remaining altitude fast. He had time for one split nanoklik of thinking how mad Ratchet will be again to crash… and then he crashed into the waves, started to sink and got scared even more. 

Fireflight was used to crashing into things and developed a fairly high resistance to damage and pain. But neither of those things helped now that he had virtually no damage, aside from a bent aileron, but was fast sinking into the dark waters of the ocean, he didn’t know which way was up or down, but he wanted to get out of it NOW!

But his engines stalled and didn’t work underwater anyway and Fireflight never thought that he should learn swimming – a useless exercise for Cybertronians, more dense than water anyway. He was afraid to transform too, the salt-water would wreak havoc with his systems, so the young jet realized that he was running out of options.

The next he knew was that water was cascading off of his frame, meaning he somehow got out of the ocean. The how was soon explained by the other frame holding him, an EM field pulsing soothingly towards him, and dark arms hugging him. Fireflight squeaked softly, his vents spewing water and some unfortunate fishes out and tried to check just who was holding him. The field was unfamiliar, the frame so-so, but when his rescuer chuckled low he started to get an idea. The way he got transported out of the water… and the flash earlier… 

“Skywarp?”

“Yeah, good ol’ me. You scare easily, right?”

“I… I was preoccupied…”

“Mere three mechanometers over the water level??? And they call me _airhelmed_ …”

“Was I flying that low…?” – had he got his face shown, Fireflight’s optics would have been opened comically wide. In jet form as it was he conveyed his embarrassment with his tone only.

“Yeah. I came down to see what the frag you were doing.” – Skywarp shifted him in his arms a little – “Could you restart your engines? You are a bit heavy.”

“Umm… sorry… thanks for fishing me out… I’ll try.”

Fireflight’s engine spluttered and choked, obviously still to waterlogged to work. 

“No problem… hold on.”

Skywarp shifted him again and Fireflight felt the little pull of the space-warp this time, the moonlit waters disappearing from underneath and then together they set down on the packed sand of a deserted, dark beach. Skywarp’s arms were suddenly perceived clearly as they wound around him, the digits stroking the metal of his wing lightly, causing the sensors there to tremble with the pleasant feeling. Fireflight felt warmth, pleasant and welcome after the cold darkness of the ocean and it was only after a few kliks that he realized where it came from. 

He was getting aroused. And the Seeker was still holding him, petting him and Fireflight didn’t want to transform in his arms, not wanting to damage him inadvertently. Besides the situation didn’t feel like to be dangerous, despite of Skywarp being a Decepticon…

“I… ummm… Skywarp? Can I transform? I mean, please let me up…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea yet. You’re still dripping wet.”

“Ohhh… okay.”

Fireflight settled back in his jet form, the Seeker’s arms acutely felt around him, exuding warmth and tingling where the dark metal petted him.

“So what…”

“So what’re…”

They started to speak at the same time, hearing each other, falling silent and finally dissolving into giggles as they copied each other. It was suddenly so hard to remember that Skywarp was a Decepticon, an enemy… 

“I got lost…” – Fireflight said amongst giggles, squirming slightly in the embrace. The digits got closer to his ailerons and Fireflight bit back a small moan.

“How can you be … lost? Has your GPS malfunctioned?”

“umm… no… I just… I guess I wasn’t paying attention where I was.”

Skywarp’s wings pricked up. He was generally pretty much unobservant and uncaring of his surroundings – TC has exhorted him enough times for it – but to actually forget where one was – well, that was new to him. But then, they all saw that Fireflight was pretty susceptible to be distracted, even in battles… He upped the petting of the slightly trembling wings, enjoying the reactions. Had the youngster wanted him to stop, he would stop, the Seeker told himself. It was just… touching anyway.

“What were you doing out here alone?”

“Umm… I shouldn’t say it, I guess…” – Fireflight hesitated, then squirmed as the caressing digits stopped. He wanted them to start again, to make him warm and drowsy… – “But I came after Silverbolt.”

Skywarp laughed out loud, wings signalling something rude and lewd that Fireflight understood on a deeply instinctive level only. But it added to his already aroused warmth even more…

“Don’t worry about him… if my Trine-leader’s absence is any indication, then he’s in good servos.”

“That’s what I thought… but we were told the coding was… neutralized or something?”

“It hasn’t been just the coding for those two for a while.” – Skywarp looked mischievous and his left servo slipped from the wings to the cockpit. – “I never saw Starscream to behave anything like that. Ever.”

Fireflight felt like transforming back to root form and grab an aileron or two with his own servos. He felt seriously hot now, the water steaming out of his joints in tickling puffs of cloud. Skywarp moved on from the white wings to his cockpit and his other servo toyed with the nozzle of his engine, eliciting a louder whimper and a strong shudder.

“L-like what? Ummm… Skywarp… what are you doing?”

“Like he is in love. But don’t tell that back to him please, I wanna live a bit more.” – Skywarp smirked at the innocent question and continued – “I believe the term is molesting. Do you mind it…?”

His question coincided with his digits dipping into the nozzle, to lightly spin the still-dripping turbofans. He wasn’t surprised that the Phantom couldn’t answer coherently, that move was enough to reduce any jet into an aroused mess. He wasn’t unaffected either – his cooling vents came on a few kliks ago, the warming, trembling and moaning jet on his lap and Fireflight’s ragged, charged EM field was more than enough to reward him for his ministrations.

“N-no… it’s… uhh… all right…”

“Good… ‘cause you’re hot like the Forge, Fireflight…”

Leaning over the red plating, Skywarp rubbed black onto him, drawing shrieking tracks over the place where he suspected the interface array to hide under the outer plates. Somewhere in the back of his processor the Seeker was surprised as Pit of his own eagerness. It must have been eons since he spiked any mech… and in alt mode… probably never. It was considered kinky even in Vos.

“D-don’t stop it!”

Fireflight squawked and considered transforming despite of the saltwater still tickling his seams. He withstood the urge but to his eager mortification, the valve cover slid aside and exposed his interface array to the night air. Or rather to the black plating of the Seeker who was draped all over his backside. He nearly blushed, but fortunately it wasn’t visible anywhere.

“P-please…!”

“Are you sure…?” – Skywarp wasn’t exactly sure that he could stop if the younger jet wanted to, but he had to ask. He’d try anyway… his voice was almost as ragged as Fireflight’s - “It’s not… uhhh… coding or whatthefrag… just… enjoying it… if you… WANT TO?”

“Do it already!” – Fireflight shrieked at him, rocking, nearly shaking apart on his landing gear, his wings trembling, ailerons madly flapping and at last his valve cover spiralled open. The scent of the lubricant made any further questions and assurances moot. 

Skywarp arranged himself on top of the Phantom, straddling his back and rubbing his crotch plate on the exposed valve. He was moaning low, the smell of the lubricant intoxicating to his olfactory sensors. He couldn’t keep his spike behind his cover and didn’t even want to. Releasing it was a relief, sinking into the inviting valve was like the Well itself. 

They both moaned loudly into the night air as the black spike slid home and the black frame strained on top of the red jet to get deeper. Fireflight bucked up, towards the oh-so-heavenly sensation, to have that nice spike thrust even deeper but he felt the Seeker slide to one side and grip him strongly to stay up.

“Whoa…” – Skywarp grabbed a wing to steady himself. It was strange to frag this way, he had no frame of reference how to move and gravity was an annoying complication… for a nanoklik he was reminded of a rodeo he saw once on human television and nearly laughed – “Don’t tell me you want me to get off!”

“N-noo! Just… frag me already!”

“With pleasure!”

Skywarp found purchase and rose, almost like he was riding the red jet, his spike slipping almost completely out of the wet, hot, desperately clutching valve – and dropped back, thrusting into it with some force, eliciting a loud, breathy yell from the Aerialbot. But it wasn’t one of pain and Skywarp was done with being considerate anyway.

After a few tentative thrusts they found the rhythm and Skywarp started to get lost in arousal and pleasure. He wasn’t a spike mech, not between Starscream and TC, and it was ages since he did this, he felt the heavenly grip of a valve around him, the calipers’ rhythmical tightening motion that nudged him ever so closer to his climax.

Fireflight too was close if his fraying EM field and ragged moans were any indication. Skywarp thrust stronger, grinding his pelvic plates on the red back, shouting and yelling atop the shaking, moaning Phantom. It didn’t take long for both of them to reach overload and scream their release into the shocked silence of the dark beach. 

“Uhhh…”

Skywarp couldn’t say anything more coherent for breems afterwards, the sensations were just that intense. With shaking legs he rose, leaving the hot, wet, silky valve and more slid than climbed off the silent Phantom’s back.

“Yallright, Flight?”

Fireflight moaned low, an aileron twitching hesitantly. He shifted on his landing gear and the front one promptly folded up, reminding Skywarp of his knees giving way after a truly satisfying frag. He started to laugh, flopping onto his back on the sand, vents working furiously to cool his overheated frame. Fireflight’s nosecone was halfway in the sand, his aft end sticking up in the air, looking so comically ridiculous that the black Seeker couldn’t stop laughing.

“Whathappened… why am I in… sand?”

Skywarp stifled his bubbling laughter only as long so he could lift the dazed red jet’s nosecone out of the sand and fold his front wheel under him. Then he flopped back to laugh some more, the Aerialbot’s confused embarrassment not helping any to be able to stop.

“Why are you… wait what did we do?” – obviously Fireflight has just remembered why he was offline on a dark beach with an incessantly laughing Seeker as company. And why he felt like after a long session with his brothers and why his valve cover was open and why fluids sloshed around in it… the last once finally clicked home the answer. - “Did we…?”

“Yeah, we did. And you were amazing, Flight.” – Skywarp’s answer was still breathless but at least he could speak now. – “… and I think you can transform now. That much heat we’ve generated must have got rid of the seawater.”

“I’m not sure I can move… yet…”

“Take your time.” – Skywarp felt sated, happy and generally satisfied with life. When he set off from the Nemesis, after a brief spat with Thundercracker about pranking the wrong mechs, he’d initially only expected a calming flight. A good, what good, a stellar frag was definitely not in the cards, not even in his daydreams. 

True, he’d watched the Aerialbots a few times while sitting on that blasted clearing, having to watch Starscream and Silverbolt getting it on, but he never truly expected any of the young jets to be party for an interface. After all… they were still enemies, even though they all had to remind themselves increasingly more often to that fact. 

Fireflight’s plates shifted slowly as the young Bot transformed sluggishly, ending up sitting on the beach as his legs were hardly more stable than his landing gear. Even his wings were drooping haphazardly, expressing tiredness only. He tried to close his panel fast but some of their mixed fluids still dripped onto his plating. But his face had a huge grin on it.

“You gave a literal meaning to the expression ‘fragging my legs off’…” – he murmured totally embarrassed but still good-humoured.

Skywarp chortled once again, also sitting up. His own wings were fluttering self-satisfied and happy in the meager light of their optics and equipment. But he turned a bit more serious when he saw the younger flier preparing to leave on still-shaky legs…

“Hey, Flight. It wasn’t anything planned” – he assured the Autobot – “nor did it mean anything.”

“Yeah, I got it. I agreed and I liked it… it was just something we both enjoyed.”

Fireflight left out that he’d singled out the black Seeker weeks ago and was looking forward to any such opportunity to meet. That was… inconsequential. Young, innocent, airhelmed and whatever else mechs told about him, he knew some things instinctly that would probably shock others.

Like… like a frag was just a frag. It felt good and that was that and Skywarp apparently felt the same way. Fireflight wasn’t judgemental and didn’t call their Autobot friends prudes, but instinctly he felt that fliers were different this way too. The coding just gave it a structure. 

And Skywarp was nice, helpful and hot. Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last few chapter were a bit too serious and plot-y, so I felt like lightening the mood a bit. So that's it, Flight and Warp really just enjoyed a frag and it has no coding-related or plot-related significance.


	13. Silverbolt

The night was like black silk around him. Looking down, he saw the little pinpricks of lights that Humans used but up there, where Silverbolt was flying the darkness was nearly complete. It was strange to fly without his brothers on his sides or just playing in the air around him. Lonely almost, but Silverbolt didn’t feel lonely, he wasn’t really missing his brothers for once. It was something he had to do alone, that was his only, something not shareable, not even with those the closest to him.

It was strange to keep a secret from his brothers, to deceive them and act all alone. For all they knew he was sitting in front of a monitor, bored out of his processor – but Silverbolt changed his shift with Hot Spot who asked no questions and promised not to tell it – and here he was flying to meet with a mech who by all expectations would not even be there. They had no communication over that flash of optics at the end of the battle, made no promises to each other and Silverbolt went fully expecting the clearing to be dark, empty and lonely.

But it wasn’t. When Silverbolt landed, the smaller, dark in the night frame was waiting for him already, only the red optics showing up like tiny rubies in the darkness. He stood there unmoving, waiting for Silverbolt to land and come closer. They recognized each other, despite of the pitch black night that embraced them, the crisp air that caressed their plating that strangely ran hot. 

“Silverbolt.”

Starscream lit his lights and acknowledged him with a terse nod in the twilit darkness. The Concorde stepped closer, hesitating a few mechanometers away. There was no script now, no protocol to dictate their behaviour, he was on his own. It was exciting… but unnerving too.

“Come, sit with me.”

Convenient boulders provided seats close enough but still apart. A wingtip clanged slightly on another one and they both shifted slightly to remove the contact that left tingling marks on the sensitive tips.

“Why did you come?”

“I… I felt like I have to. I wanted to thank you…”

“There is no need to thank.”

“Still… I insist. You didn’t have to do it for me…”

“Wrong.” – the raspy voice became even more scratched – “I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because it was wrong. It was… you shouldn’t have to endure that.”

“B-but… is it because I’m a youngling? Or…”

“You aren’t a youngling any more, Silverbolt. Not since that last time, with your gestalt brother.”

“But I was before then.”

“Yes.” – Starscream was silent for so long, Silverbolt thought he wouldn’t continue. – “It was wrong and awful to force you. I didn’t want it, but I couldn’t help it.”

“But now… now it’d be all right, because I’m not a youngling any more?”

“It’s not that.”

“Why?”

“Did you like to do it? When you were on top? Did you enjoy it then?”

Silverbolt flicked a wing hesitantly. – “No, not really… I mean it was… necessary.”

“That was all it was?”

“I… I don’t know! I don’t understand… any of it! Why is it important?”

“It never felt good?”

“No! I… you mean…” – Silverbolt was completely confused – “The interface itself… it was good. I… enjoyed it. With you. But not the part where I had to do it, where I had to lie to my superiors, where I had to sneak out…”

“I see.”

They sat in silence for a breem, the complexity of the situation daunting for the young Aerial – and the underlying emotions far too embarrassing for the Seeker to speak about it easily. The star-sprinkled darkness watched them interestedly, the vegetation around the clearing held its collective, expectation-loaded quiet. They were so tightly controlled and so very careful not to touch as they sat on those rocks…

“W-what about you, Starscream? Was it just… the coding?”

“Not… fully. At first maybe. But then… I didn’t want to force you, but I still wanted you. Just you. Don’t think I understand it any better than you.” – the grin was a bit twisted, depreciating, bemused and incredulous. 

“This slagging coding fragged us up pretty bad.”

“That it did.”

Starscream shifted slightly, moving a tiny bit closer to Silverbolt. Their wings touched again, a slight tingling ran from the point of contact till their processors… and down into the whole sensory net. They made no move to put distance between them again. Starscream’s wing trembled slightly, the tremors easily transmitting to Silverbolt. He shifted a little in answer, the warm metal of his wing sliding a little on Starscream’s.

“Why did you _really_ come here, Silverbolt?”

“Why did _you_ , Starscream?”

“I had hoped that you’d come.” – smirking openly as he threw the ball of conversation back.

“And I had hoped that I’d find you here.” – Silverbolt laughed softly.

“Well then… we both got what we wanted, right?”

“Not… yet.” – Silverbolt shifted closer too – “I’d hoped a bit more than just… finding you and talk.”

A blue servo lifted and slowly stroked along the edge of his wings.

“Something like this, maybe?”

“It definitely crossed my processor.”

A throaty laugh answered him and the servo slid along the leading edge, firing up the sensors there. Silverbolt flicked the wing closer and put his own servo onto the white thigh, stroking along a seam in the same rhythm as the caress on his wing.

“Likewise.” – Silverbolt sighed – “Slag, I’m glad that my brothers are not around this time. Or your Trinemates. I positively hated that part.”

“Were you that embarrassed by them watching?”

“A… bit. Well. Quite a bit. It’s just so strange to be watched… during.”

“I can’t say it disturbs me any more – in Vos it was considered normal to interface publicly.”

“I can’t… I don’t like it. But now…. it’s good without them.”

“I’m not averse to it either. What is a little wingplay between enemies?”

“Do we have to be enemies?”

“Not here… no…” – but the servo froze on his wing and Silverbolt felt the warming, heating field draw away too.

The night, the clearing, the whole world held its breath in anticipation.

“Slagging war.” – he mumbled, kneading the white thigh under his digits still, refusing to draw away – “I hate it.”

“Tell me about it…” – Starscream’s voice was bitter, dry and carrying all the weight and horrors of the war. He didn’t resume the caress and Silverbolt felt sad for that. The little, barely awakening playful mood just… evaporated. But Silverbolt didn’t want it to go, didn’t want to leave just yet. If no more, then he’d be content to just talk with Starscream. 

“What was it like before the war? I mean… Vos. I can’t imagine so many fliers… Seekers. All with this coding…”

The red light of Starscream’s optics flashed to him like he understood the reason for the sudden question, but he answered easily enough.

“Vos was beautiful… you could hardly see the ground, we lived high above it, in towers and spires and floating gardens, bars and arenas amongst them… most of the time you were in the air, living there, courting, talking, racing, doing whatever, only landing for recharge and refuel.” – his voice lost its usual raspiness and it was almost… sentimental, Silverbolt would term it – “But for all its beauty Vos wasn’t perfect.”

“What was wrong?”

“Mechs aren’t perfect for having wings, Silverbolt. We had our corrupt council and pampered nobility just like other cities and the dregs of society, the bad ones as well.”

“Like the sparkling-hunters… sorry.”

“Like them.” – Starscream scowled – “It wasn’t easy to be a young Seeker in Vos. You had all the expectations from family, all the demands from society and all the dangers that go with it. But once you found your Trine, once you made them yours – you suddenly had a unit that could take on the world and keep your wings protected.”

“How did you find them?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry – you already have yours.” – Starscream smirked – “But as for mine… I belonged to the nobility and they were both lower class. It wasn’t easy – on me or for them either. We had a lot of prejudice and rules to overcome…”

“Uhh… I’m not sure I got it clearly… sorry if it is… Trine is family? I mean… are they your mates, brothers or… what?”

“No. Trine is… Trine. We fly together, we fight together and we live together. We don’t have sparklings together… well, we could, but… we are not compatible that way.”

“B-but you have interfaced…”

“Yes, I fragged them and do so from time to time; just for fun often or for discipline sometimes. But it’s different. We don’t spark. If this slagging war ever ends, TC will probably ask my permission to spark Warp and have Seekerlings together. They are… compatible that way.”

Silverbolt felt a bit lost and not a little confused. Apparently Trine-business was even more difficult than he’d thought. 

“How do you know this? Have you tried…?”

“No! I just… I know. I sense it. You don’t have this sense of who is paired up – or will be - among your team? Well, maybe you are too young still… but it should show.”

Silverbolt tried to think about it in the light of Starscream’s revelations. They all interfaced within the gestalt, but Starscream indicated that it meant nothing more than… fragging, nothing serious than just a fun pastime. So who… then he remembered the fierce protectiveness that Air Raid has always shown for Fireflight and the fondness with which Skydive stopped Slingshot’s rants and tantrums. Were they pairs that way? He wasn’t sure and he’s have to observe them some more to decide. But the idea took seed in his processor.

“I think I do…”

“And you are not part of it, right?”

“N-no… I’m not sure, but…”

“Trine-leaders usually pair up with other Trine-leaders. Not always, true, but generally. We are Dominants. We fight it out. Sometimes… oftentimes we find mates that way. That’s another part of our coding.”

“This coding gets to my nerves. Does it regulate everything we do?”

“Well… yeah, more or less. Why are you surprised?”

“I just… it seems excessive. Too much. Too strange.”

“You were created and raised by grounders. That’s an abominable idea in itself even with the best intentions. They had no idea of all this I told you and so they tried to instill their own societal rules into you. Of course it looks too much now to learn about it so fast, in extreme circumstances. But it is your heritage, Silverbolt. The flier coding is not a cruel dictator, but the core of our being. ”

“I guess…”

“It really is. Remember that you came to us first when none of us had any idea that you even had enough coding? We saw you as fliers - but we just weren’t sure how you’d turn out.”

“I… yeah. But… we were always told that we are fliers, but not Seekers.”

“That’s a load of Pitslag.” – Starscream’s voice turned angry – “I’m sure they did that intentionally to make you think of us as a different… kind from you. But it is not true. Seeker is a fixed-wing, flight-capable mech with the kind of flier coding you too have. True, you are not from Vos, but since they used our coding to create you… what else can you be?”

“Were there other fliers, from other cities? Or just in Vos?”

“Of course. Most fliers were related – we are frame-kin. But not all of us actually lived in Vos.”

“Like Skyfire and his kind.”

“Like him, yeah. There has always been some contact with the fliers across Cybertron. No matter where we lived, we had more in common with other fliers than with grounders from the same cities.”

“I… guess that’s logical.”

“It is. Grounders think differently, their attitudes and world-view is different, because their coding is different. Living among them, being raised among them, your inner coding and your learned values had to be in a constant conflict.”

Silverbolt was silent for a breem. It made sense and he perceived Starscream’s assessment as true… but still, he disputed it.

“But you also live among grounders. More or less.”

Starscream laughed, short and barking.

“I’m an adult Seeker. There is not much they can inflict on me that’d trouble my coding. True, Megatron tries instinctly to break it, but I have Seekers around me and I’m stronger in that way.” – the Seeker fell silent for a klik but Silverbolt felt that he hasn’t finished yet – “Besides the Decepticons don’t try to teach anyone moral rules like the Autobots do. Pits! I’d go mad if I had to listen to those lectures your Prime and that SIC of his douses you ornly.”

“How do you know about… never mind. Do you… I’m sorry, but… do you try to recruit me to the Decepticon army?”

Starscream’s optics flashed at him shocked and he started to laugh loud – but there was a slight, desperate edge in the sound. The night around them nearly took a step back at the knife-edge in the noise. Silverbolt too wished to do so.

“N-no! Hahaha… no, I definitely don’t. I’d never… you don’t belong there, you couldn’t survive a decaorn, your team would be used, abused and broken… and I couldn’t see you being hurt.”

The laughter fully subsided by the end of the sentence, giving way to dead, cold seriousness and a tinge of protectiveness that Starscream obviously wanted to hide, but came through his suddenly expanding field that wrapped around the larger flier. Silverbolt felt flattered and touched at the sudden concern and cautiously moved his wing closer again. 

“Umm… okay then. I… that’s what I thought so… the Cons seem to be cruel and boorish… I mean not you, of course!” – he hoped that the darkness hid his blushing faceplates – “I like you and I…”

“I like you too. Maybe more than I should…”

“I don’t think it is more than…”

The rest of his thoughts and words were swept away as a smaller servo grabbed his wingtip and pulled him closer. Starscream was standing – when did he stand up? – and his servos were suddenly on his frame, pushing him backwards. It wasn’t aggressive but he was certainly dominating and Silverbolt enjoyed it, acquiescing to the forceful push. The ground was softer here with the old foliage covering the rocks…. and on his back was still far-far better than the traditional position he came to love to hate…

Especially with Starscream expertly teasing his frame, having access to Silverbolt’s front plates and seams that were so far unavailable for him. And the Seeker certainly had talented servos, Silverbolt noted as the tingling started up everywhere they went… he could barely lift his own servos to grab the red pectoral vents and give something back to Starscream.

Starscream certainly took his time to discover his front side in the most delicious way. The lack of a cockpit visibly threw him, his questing digits kept returning to the place where most if not all fliers wore that. Silverbolt knew that it was a sensitive place for Seekers, an obvious hotspot and he flicked the small winglets on his shoulders to call attention to them instead. His own servos sneaked behind the Seeker’s back, using his longer reach to his advantage to fondle the wings.

He saw Starscream’s red optics flash on the winglets and a satisfied hiss as his servos slid from the bland metallic chest plates onto the quivering, warm metal, fastened onto the sensitive tips and Silverbolt moaned, back bowing up so suddenly that he nearly dislodged the smaller Seeker from his perch upon him. The grip became stronger, nearly painful before Starscream tightened his legs around his waist to secure his place and returned to gently stroking the white winglets. 

“Mmmm… much better this way I believe…”

Silverbolt completely agreed and expressed it with a long, drawn out moan when Starscream slid lower and started to rub his pelvic plates on his interface cover. 

“Yeeeeessss….”

They didn’t talk a lot after that.

 

-o-o-o-

“Two of the Aerialbots left the Ark during the night and came back many joors later.”

Prowl’s voice was cold and strict, tinged with a slight accusation. He told Optimus Prime that the Aerialbots were not to be trusted even after the coding has been tweaked – and he still suspected along with Ratchet that Starscream hid something among those codes he made, they just couldn’t discover what it was yet – and this unexplained absence seemed to confirm his worries.

“They have done that on occasions, Prowl. Was there anything to make it suspicious now?”

“Nothing conclusive, Sir. But…”

“Prowl, it is unlike you to come to me with suspicions only.”

“With all due respect Sir, it is enough to start an investigation. Starscream can easily sway the young fliers with his shrewd ways, his insidious talking. He’s been known to twist the truth to garner sympathy.”

“But do you have any proof that he is involved? The Aerialbots are fliers, they have gone flying in odd hours before when they felt the need.”

“No proof as such…” – Prowl paused, gathering all what he found suspicious to present it to Optimus Prime – “but they’ve gone and come separately, which is unusual, they’ve both visited the washracks after returning, like wanting to remove discriminating evidence…”

“…or just wash off dirt.” – Optimus Prime interjected dryly. He didn’t find either fact suspicious.

“… and Fireflight expressed a _liking_ towards Skywarp later in the rec room and mentioned some kind of a rescue too, while Silverbolt researched Vos extensively both during his monitor shift and his free time.”

Optimus Prime drew his brow plates together unhappily. Those were still no proof but he could see now why Prowl came to him.

“…and you believe it was Starscream he met with and told him about Vos?”

“Yes.”

They both knew what it meant that the Aerialbots met with Seekers. They were ordered not to after all the coding issues were sufficiently solved. To wilfully disobey orders…

“Let’s talk to them one more time. Maybe we can clear this up and…” – Optimus Prime wasn’t sure what to hope. But they could hardly allow to lose a full gestalt and most of their air forces. Or let the Aerialbots fall into Megatron’s servos… the Autobot leader shuddered at the last thought.


	14. Starscream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time for update and it'll still be slow for a while yet. I've moved and got new job but things are still busy. But I can write a bit now at least.

The confrontation in the Autobot Command Center was awkward and eventually getting painful for all mechs involved. The Prime and his officers faced with the Aerialbots over the meeting table like it was a battlefield in all but its name and the looks darting over the table were just slightly less serious than actual gunfire. Silverbolt admitted that he met with Starscream while Fireflight maintained that he’d only accidentally run into Skywarp. Eventually both of them ended up interfacing and neither seemed particularly repentant or guilty for breaking their word.

“I can’t allow you meet them, Silverbolt, especially not him. Starscream is sly and wily, he can twist you and I don’t want to see you end up as Decepticons. Whatever that Seeker says, you wouldn’t like or survive long the experience.”

“With all due respect Sir, that’s exactly what Starscream said.” – Silverbolt was determined this time to explain everything and try to stand up for what he believed was right. Or at least not wrong. 

“What?”

“That we are not cut to be Decepticons and he wouldn’t want to see us hurt.”

Optimus Prime paused in his lecture and glanced at Prowl. The SIC didn’t look convinced but he, too was a bit surprised by the sentiment. 

“He could still be deceiving. It is, after all in their name and Starscream is particularly prone to lying.”

“Sir, the Seekers were protective and friendly towards my team, ever since this coding issue came up and it only strengthened lately.”

“If I wanted to entice a mech or group of mechs to my side, I’d do the same.” - Prowl interjected dryly – “behave friendly and deny any malicious intentions, while trying to convince them that my cause is right and just.”

Silverbolt was agitated. “Except that Starscream never even mentioned the Decepticon cause and it is far harder to lie while our fields basically conjoined, with what… umm… we were doing...”

“Skywarp was sincere too and TC when he had to… umm. I know when somemech is… deceiving.” – Fireflight said hesitantly - “I mean I never heard them trying to enlist us and I’d never go to their side.”

“Nor would any of us.” – Silverbolt added and all the Aerialbots nodded, murmuring their assent. The mood around the table lightened somewhat but it was still tense. 

“It is still a breach of protocol to consort with the enemy.” – Prowl said after a breem’s pause, while Optimus Prime remained silent, weighing their words carefully – “I cannot allow it.”

“If it was all right while the coding forced us, then why not now?”

The question was innocent from Fireflight but it was the crux of the matter in fact and all of them present felt it. 

“Because it is consorting with the enemy and against the rules.”

They’d all expected Prowl to approach it from the regulations’ side and he didn’t disappoint. The Aerialbots defiantly faced the commanders over the table, believing that they’d done nothing wrong and they weren’t the cause of it anyway; while Prowl steadfastly refused to consider it right or accept that it wasn’t their fault to begin with. The atmosphere that has just began to lighten a bit turned tense yet again.

“Because Starscream is shrewd and I neither want you to get hurt nor do I want you to waver in being Autobots.” – Optimus Prime, as expected was more emphatic than his SIC, but firm none the less – “You do believe in our cause still, right?”

“YES!”

“Yeah!”

“Yes we do!”

“Of course!” – Silverbolt waved his team to be silent after the indignant shouts – “Sir, Starscream hasn’t even tried to explain his side of the war and what made them join the Decepticon side. We only talked about Vos, about flier matters.

“You are saying that he’s never tried to sway your beliefs?”

“No! True, he said that our flier codes and the grounder ideology we were taught clash but we already felt it before he made us realize why it was sometimes so uncomfortable.”

“That’s a really shrewd way from Starscream to try and entice them.” – Prowl noted dryly, doorwings still stiff and tense – “He doesn’t go for the ideology which can be disproved or debated, he goes for the flier superiority thing which we cannot hope to disprove or contest.”

Silverbolt stared at the Praxian incredulously, mouth falling open. That was paranoia worthy of Red Alert, he was sure. 

“With all due respect Sir… difference is not superiority. We are different that way, it is… well, obvious.” – he waved around at themselves and the suddenly ostentatiously grounder officers facing them broadly, in a way encompassing not only physical but inner differences as well.

“That’s what fliers always said. That’s what made Sentinel Prime to subdue them. We are all Cybertronians, there shouldn’t be any other division!”

“Prowl.” – Optimus Prime put a servo on his agitated SIC’s shoulder and spoke up mildly – “Sentinel Prime wasn’t quite the pinnacle of good sense most of the time. Many of his actions proved to be wrong later… and while it is true that we are all Cybertronians, we do have our different frame-types, subcultures and coding. Silverbolt… and Starscream are right in that at least.”

Prowl looked back at him like he felt betrayed by his commanding officer, doorwings flaring and trembling ever so slightly as he kept them in tight check. The Aerialbots stayed quiet at the rarely heard argument between the Prime and the Praxian SIC, even Slingshot didn’t try to interrupt them.

“But Sir…”

“No, Prowl, it is neither the time, nor the place to argue about that. We have more urgent matters.”

“Yes Sir.” – the Praxian settled his doorwings and his tone with some effort – “I still cannot allow any member of the army to consort with the enemy. To do so would be high treason.”

“Not even if it gives us an advantage?” – Silverbolt didn’t know himself where he got the bravado to speak up against _Prowl_ of all mechs, feeling the ice-cold optics turn towards him again. Maybe he was taking a page from Starscream’s datapad?

“What do you mean, Silverbolt?” – Optimus Prime asked seriously.

“As far as we are on good terms with the Seekers, we do have an advantage in battles. They don’t attack us and they don’t even let the Coneheads attack us either. That gives us nearly a free servo in the air.”

Optimus Prime was inwardly proud of Silverbolt to come up with that argument. If anything it had the most chance of being factored in by Prowl – and the Autobot leader never wanted to overrule his second in a matter so serious as this one, even though he felt the young fliers’ actions not as serious as the breach of protocol was. They were obviously not betraying their cause, just… the Prime wasn’t exactly sure what was coming after that just, only that it was personal rather than ideological. 

“So you propose to continue befriending the Seekers, even though the coding doesn’t compel you?”

“It would be… mutually beneficial…” – Silverbolt suddenly felt the unexpected bravery evaporate and leave him nervous and fidgety again – “…and… the coding is still there, even if it doesn’t compel us…”

“But it would mean you not attacking the Seekers either.” – Prowl was actually weighing the pros and cons of the arrangement.

“Superion could.” – Skydive surprised them all by adding his insight in a timid voice – “Decepticons have gestalts, they know how the gestalt processor works.”

“Indeed.”

In the end, nothing was decided – and much to Silverbolt’s surprise they weren’t punished either. The order not to consort with the Decepticon Seekers was reinforced and the Aerialbots got as many extra shifts as Prowl could realistically cram into their schedules – but when he considered everything carefully, the Concorde knew that they got away with it very lightly and the officers did nothing to prevent any further meetings. Just made them harder… but not impossible. 

-o-o-o-

“Dive… could you… umm… cover for me in the night cycle patrol with Air Raid?”

Skydive looked up from his datapad, and took in the faintly trembling wings and the forcedly casual tone of his gestalt leader. Silverbolt nearly scuffled his pedes like a scolded youngling before he caught himself and held unnaturally still.

“Sure, Bolt. Why?”

“I… I gotta do something.”

Skydive suppressed his smirk and asked nothing else. Silverbolt acted like he was keeping his meetings with Starscream secret and the Aerialbots just didn’t have the spark to tell him outright how dreadfully bad he was in hiding that particular secret. Instead they let him believe that they didn’t know anything.

“It’s okay. I have nothing important to do.”

“Thanks Dive.”

Silverbolt flew towards their meeting place, silently fuming about Prowl’s schedule that gave him hardly any time to go out and fly for leisure. It wasn’t just the meetings, he rationalized to himself, it was basically about not having any free time for themselves. Sure it was supposed to be a punishment, but still. He’d suspected, dreaded rather since the first time they’ve been discovered that he and his team would be punished for something that was totally out of their control, not their fault and in general unavoidable – and as time went by he started to resent it more and more. 

Landing on the dark clearing he was resigned to wait for Starscream - he’d arrived early and the Decepticon Seeker could never come as scheduled anyway. Silverbolt suddenly felt ashamed for grumbling about such a minor thing as their workload when they still had it far easier than Starscream who had to keep the whole thing in secret or he’d be in far more slag if discovered meeting with him. 

The approaching jet sounds dispelled Silverbolt’s thoughts as he looked up to search the dark skies for the tricoloured jet, his frame slightly warming in anticipation. Not that they interfaced every time, sometimes it was just talking, Starscream telling him about Vos, Seekers, history and even some stories – but Silverbolt loved those occasions just as much as the times when they fell at each other in a playful version of a challenge fight and fragged frantically afterwards. Both felt wonderful, and Silverbolt sometimes felt that he couldn’t imagine his life without the Seeker. Hidden, rare and secret that they had to meet, but he was addicted. Firmly.

But when Starscream landed on the other end of the clearing the big Aerialbot couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong. The Seeker’s smaller, dark shadow stumbled a few steps, uncharacteristically from Starscream and Silverbolt hurried over there. The darkness was barely broken by their small lights and Silverbolt strained his sensors instead of his useless optics to see what was going on.

The field of the Seeker was ragged and flaring haphazardly, was Silverbolt’s first impression. Then he took in the details that his sensors were feeding him and the big jet gasped.

“What happened?”

Starscream straightened with some difficulty and tried to hitch his wings up. How he was able to fly with injuries like that, Silverbolt couldn’t fathom.

“Megatron.” – he spat with his voice tense and even more rasping than usual, faceplates twisting in an angry and pained snarl.

“He hasn’t discovered…?”

“No. Just… his usual slag...” – Silverbolt felt rather than saw the scowl on the dark lipplates – “…felt like proving his superiority over me the only way he could.”

“B-but… why haven’t you had these injuries repaired?”

Starscream stayed silent while he turned and heavily sat on a big rock, hissing minutely at the movement. Silverbolt moved closer, big servos gently stroking over the uninjured edge of the wing. He fervently wished he knew anything about first aid, but he was woefully inadequate in the situation. All he could offer was sympathy…

“When he is in a particular mood he orders Hook not to fix me.” – the Seeker explained with a still tense voice, but his wing relaxed slightly at the gentle touches. – “Thundercracker can usually help somewhat but they were ordered on patrol now.”

“You shouldn’t have come…”

“’Cause it’s better to sit in my quarters alone…?”

“No, I mean… you are injured…”

“No slag.” – Starscream winced slightly as Silverbolt’s servo slid over a dent – “I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to!” – Silverbolt snatched his servo away from the injury, not wanting to cause any more discomfort. Unfortunately he could barely find any surfaces that weren’t damaged in some way.

“He’s always been like that.”

“I hate seeing you like this…” – Silverbolt whispered – “I mean I’m glad to see you… it is rare enough we can meet… but it makes me furious at him.”

“I don’t need protection.” – the tricoloured Seeker snapped, a bit harsher than he’d intended. Silverbolt winced at the tone, knowing that he’d managed to insult the proud Seeker. – “I can take what that slagger can do.”

“I know… I didn’t mean it that way. But still…”

“It is the way things are.” – Starscream looked resigned.

“Not necessarily… you don’t have to put up with this! With him! You don’t deserve this treatment!”

“I’m a Decepticon, Silverbolt.” – his tone hardened, a warning hidden in it for Silverbolt to not continue that train of thought. – “No matter how friendly we are lately, it is still true.”

“You don’t have to be… you could… you know, join us and be safe…” – Silverbolt tried to recapture the earlier mood, his digits slid apologetically on Starscream’s wings, his field exuded regret. But Starscream shook off his servo angrily.

“Is this why you keep coming?” – he stood, his smaller frame withdrawing from the bigger flier, putting distance between them. – “To entice me to become an Autobot? To sway me from the Decepticon cause?”

“No!” – Silverbolt’s wings shot up in shock – “I… it isn’t a ploy!”

“It certainly sounds like one.” – Starscream’s brittle, rasping voice hid the hurt he felt and his tense wings quivered more in pain than with emotions. – “And here I thought that you cared…”

“But I do! I just… wished you could be safe from harm! I never deceived you!”

“I don’t know if I can believe that.” – Starscream retreated a step when Silverbolt tried to reach out to him, his own wings flaring outwards in a display of warning not to follow. – Curious how they let you come after… everything. How eagerly you’d say that suggestion.”

“They don’t know about me coming!”

“Say you.”

“Starscream… I swear… it isn’t a lie…”

“Spare me the empty platitudes!”

Starscream retreated one more step and tensed, wings angling to take off. Silverbolt didn’t know what he could say or do to make the suddenly distrustful Seeker believe his sincerity. He wasn’t even sure why the other was so suspicious so suddenly. He couldn’t have known how much Megatron’s constant humiliation eroded the Seeker’s self-confidence, how much he craved for a real companion and at the same time believed that he could never have one. He could only see the end-result, the mistrust from Starscream at his innocent suggestion.

“Starscream…”

Silverbolt whispered at last but it was too late with a roar of his thrusters Starscream lifted off, the noise swallowing up his last, desperate plea. The Aerialbot wasn’t usually given to anger but at the moment he could easily have attacked Megatron for all he’s done. He shouted after Starscream, but he was too far, shouted and yelled in frustrated anger before calming himself with difficulty and returning to the Ark. He didn’t trust himself to return to his team’s quarters yet, instead he went to the rec room to calm down.

“I hate this war. Hate it so much…”

“I can second that.” – Skyfire’s smooth bass voice answered to the Aerialbot’s as he sat in the empty rec room, late at the night cycle, after returning disconsolately to the Ark – What happened, if I may ask, to suddenly voice it though?”

“Skyfire… I just… it’s nothing.”

“If it is about that affair with the Seekers, you don’t have to be embarrassed… I know about it. Perhaps more than you might think.”

The big shuttle sat beside the Concorde, his bulk easily shadowing the other flier. Silverbolt rarely felt like this, like in the presence of a Creator he never had, someone even bigger than himself – but right then he welcomed the feeling. 

“Yeah… it is… that.” – Silverbolt admitted – “I know they are enemies… he’s an enemy… but I’m still drawn to him!”

Skyfire smiled thinly at that, careful so it wouldn’t look like he was condescending.

“Starscream does have a certain… flair. Always had. Mechs… Seekers were drawn to him like magnet draws iron filings.”

Silverbolt looked up to the understanding faceplates of the shuttle.

“Do you think it is just… a crush? Just something I can get over soon?”

Skyfire thought back to what he saw the fliers’ affair, the barely hidden emotions, the intensity of them, the length they both went into just to meet and get to know each other… and shook his helm slowly.

“Unfortunately for you… I don’t think so.”

“What about him?” – Silverbolt’s own wings displayed anxiety and not a little worry. Skyfire didn’t want to give the younger flier any false hopes but didn’t want to lie either. 

“I’ll put it this way: I’ve never seen Starscream this intense and dedicated since he pursued his Trine.”

Skyfire answered, letting the younger flier draw his own conclusions. He was halfway sure that the two of them loved each other, but because Silverbolt was afraid of the Autobots’ reaction over it he tried to deny his feelings and ignore Starscream’s. But in the shuttle’s experience, denying strong feelings has never led to any good, certainly not to forget them.

“He accused me that I only wanted to make him defect…” – Silverbolt’s answering voice was weak and shaking.

“Why?”

“I only told him that he’d be safe from Megatron with us! He was so badly injured!”

“I see…” – Skyfire nodded sadly. He too knew of course the treatment Megatron gave to his SIC all the time. But he also knew where the Aerialbot erred in trying to help. He himself had made that mistake earlier in the war… - “Starscream would never become an Autobot, Silverbolt, not for safety, not for anything I think. And frankly, I begin to understand him. The prejudice against fliers is so strong here, even your team is being suspected by many. Imagine what Starscream and his trine would have to face with.”

“I know… makes one wonder why we fight.”

“Because of a long string of mistakes and misguided actions that fed each other and led here… that’s my take on history. I can’t really blame any mech for fighting for what they believe. But I do wonder if all those reasons are still valid after so much time or the war goes on… or just because we aren’t inclined to make peace.”

“I… I don’t know that. I never thought about it. We only read about Cybertron, the history and all that.”

Skyfire sighed. He rarely shared his beliefs any more, since it seemed none of the Autobots, save for Perceptor, were inclined towards peace. Even Optimus Prime has sounded resigned that the war must go on until there were mechs to fight it. But for these young fliers, it was even worse. They were created for war that they never experienced the reasons for. The shuttle didn’t think that the Autobots had deceived the younglings but it was still true that they were never taught or even just informed about the other side of things. Lately they were taught of it by the Decepticon Seekers’ behaviour and tales and since the formerly faceless enemy gained faces, backgrounds, reasons. Emotions too, complicating things enormously.

“You fight because that’s all you know. But when something takes away the enmity towards your enemy… then what is it that remains?”

Silverbolt stared back at the kind blue optics of the shuttle for long breems.

“I… I don’t know…”

But he was lying. He knew. But to say it aloud would be treason for real.

-o-o-o-

Starscream landed on the platform in the semi-darkness of the coming dawn, stumbling as his damaged knee-joint nearly gave out. He was furious with the Autobot jetling still and his landing was rougher than usual due to his fuming. He barked into his comm, while limping towards his quarters on the deserted Nemesis corridors.

“Thundercracker. I require your assistance.”

“Of course, Starscream.”

The good thing with his blue trine-mate was that he never wasted words on useless questions or platitudes. The bad thing was that he came with Skywarp, who did.

“What happed Star? Did Megatron scrap you again? What did you do this time and… sweet Primus, how could you fly with those wings?”

“Shut up.” – Starscream scowled. Maybe repairs weren’t worth the inane questions of his black and purple trinemate – “I had matters to attend to.”

“That big jet, right?”

Skywarp’s left optic shutter fluttered and Starscream wondered what new malfunction the teleporter acquired. Then he did that again and a cross-reference suddenly popped up the answer. The idiot was imitating a human… WINK? Starscream felt the urge to bury his faceplates into his palms, and was saved only by Thundercracker grabbing the servo and start to weld a gash shut there. So he was relegated to focus on what Skywarp said…

“He dared to insult me with trying to entice me to be an Autobot. ME!”

“Don’t do that with your wings, Starscream or I can’t fix them.” – Thundercracker’s deep voice was carefully neutral as he kept the white wings from flaring angrily.

“The slagger was probably just faking any involvement. How dare he…?!”

Skywarp and Thundercracker glanced at each other behind their trine-leader’s back, their optics suddenly worried. Starscream’s voice was seriously hurt and insulted and not like the usual way. 

“I’m not sure… he did look enamoured with you.” – Thundercracker dared to speak up hesitantly but Starscream didn’t seem to hear him.

“How did he dare to try and… deceive me so?!”

“Uhh… I talked with the little Autobot jet, you know the one who crashes a lot, and I think he believed it to be true…”

“What?” – Starscream stared at Skywarp, trying to make sense of the sentence and glanced at Thundercracker too, showing that on some level he was aware of both their expressed sentiments.

“Star… what exactly did he say? I find it hard to believe that the Autobot just up and asked you to join them.”

“He said… he said I’d be safe from Megatron… from harm.” – he lifted slightly the wing that still had a number of dents and scratches on it – “Which is ridiculous! Like the Autobots are all that safe or Megatron would just forgive defecting!”

“But Star… it doesn’t have to be a deception or ploy… it just shows that he cares.”

Starscream’s optics were vary, full of suspicion, hurts and insecurities that he rarely ever showed outwardly even to his trine-mates. Too many hurts, betrayals to live through and no trust except in them, Thundercracker knew, a heavy burden even for one as strong as Starscream. The blue Seeker wasn’t surprised that Starscream couldn’t trust the Aerialbot, not in something this serious. But he wished to, wanted to, craved to – it was obvious.

It was high time Starscream could find someone he could love and who loved him in return and it wasn’t like he had a lot of choices at this point in the war. Thundercracker instinctly felt that the Autobot youngster, surprisingly enough, was one likely candidate. He couldn’t have explained why if asked, as he didn’t even know the big Aerialbot all that well, but he agreed with Skywarp that the whole affair was far more serious than even Starscream admitted to himself. In a good way. He hoped. 

“Why would he? He is an Autobot!”

Thundercracker shrugged, his digits continuing to fix the damage. - “He’s a flier. A Seeker.” – he stressed the last word, putting emphasis on it.

“…and you fragged each other more than you had with us this last vorn.” – Skywarp snickered even as Starscream turned his furious and shocked stare at him – “Hey, that gotta count for something!”

“Skywarp!”

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it?”

His answer was a deep scowl and a threatening look from Starscream, suddenly looking like a stern Trine-leader again, after his momentary weakening. Skywarp lowered his wings slightly at the authoritative glance but the smirk continued to sit on his lipplates. Thundercracker continued to work in the silence but his field conveyed barely hidden amusement and affection too. Starscream stared at them hard for a breem before his glance thawed out. 

“Hnh…”

It was a secret of course that neither of them would ever betray, that Starscream, unbecoming for a Trine-leader, did enjoy the sub position from time to time. Never with them of course, he was a proper leader and never submitted to either of them, and he made a show of hating it when Megatron forced the issue. But they learned a long time ago that the proud Prince that he was back then had flings and enjoyed facing that weren’t dictated by their coding. Rare as that was, to find any fliers who weren’t driven by the stricter kind of Seeker coding…

“Nevertheless, he is a fool to think that I’d just join the Autodorks!”

It was an evasion of the issue but neither Seeker felt like pointing it out, so they just nodded and kept their faceplates straight.

“Suuure, Screamer.”

“Much as Megatron is a fool and unable to win this war like… like ever…” – he scowled deeply – “…and blames me for all his own idiocies and fragged-up plans that fail…”

“Well, you disobey him a lot.”

“How can I not, when he… like orders me to fight on the ground… ME! On the Ground!... or disregards anything I suggest?”

“Suggest…?” – Thundercracker and Skywarp looked at each other with slight disbelief – “you mean when you scream insults at him during a meeting…?”

Starscream had it in himself to look sheepish for all of a nanoklik – long enough to be seen by his mates but short enough to be denied if called out on it. 

“He provokes me deliberately…” – Starscream replied, his tone slightly less cutting than usual – “I swear he comes up with these dreadful ideas because he knows I can’t keep calm hearing them.”

“You exaggerate…”

“A Purple Griffin, Warp?”

They shared a rare moment of a silent shudder together,

“Umm.” – Thundercracker swallowed – “I’m sure it wasn’t just to flip you off.”

“Yeah, it more or less freaked everyone out…” – Skywarp murmured, for once in complete agreement with Starscream.

“Fact is, he is a megalomaniac idiot who loves blaming me for like everything! And! Lately he is completely deranged! A danger to all of us and the Decepticon cause with these idiotic ideas that are bound to fail!”

The two Seekers knew that even after disregarding Starscream’s exaggeration and flair for dramatics, he wasn’t completely wrong in this. Megatron has became less stable and more prone to produce failing plots since they came to be on Earth. The warlord has never been predictable, but before his behaviour was dangerous only to the Autobots – while lately it was more and more detrimental to their own faction and cause.

“When was the last time we had enough energon to properly refuel? When was the last time we could send back more than just a meagre servoful of cubes, taken from OUR rations?”

Shockwave barely scraped by on Cybertron and they have deteriorated significantly on Earth, losing far more battles than before, getting barely enough energon to sustain themselves – while the Autobots rose to the challenges and became the warriors they’ve never before been. And it was their own fault, letting the war go on so long that even a bunch of civilians could learn to be fighters and stand up to them. More precisely Megatron’s fault for the bad and worse plots, for not listening to any of his officers - including Starscream. 

“But what can we do, Screamer? It’s not like we can make him listen. You certainly couldn’t.”

“And that’s exactly the problem. Not even Soundwave can make him listen to suggestions any more and he hasn’t listened to Scrapper’s input either for awhile. So it’s not just me. He’s completely deranged.”

Thundercracker and Skywarp looked at each other, worry shadowing their optics. Starscream was barely fixed and already expressing his usual opinion, that led him to plot against Megatron and inevitably made him beaten again. Not that he wasn’t right, they could see the grain of truth in what he said. But neither of them had it in themselves to actually do something against their warlord, not even for their trine-leader.

“Maybe I’ve gone about it the wrong way…” – Starscream murmured, forgetting they were there, his brilliant processors whirring up to make new plans for new circumstances – “… might be time to do something different…”

“Like… what?”

“How about we prove him it’s not us… not others who foul up his plans, but himself?”

Two sets of brow ridges rose in answer, the two Seekers fidgeting nervously. Usually, Starscream plotting resulted his being beaten – again – but this time he looked different. No ranting, no screaming, no foul insults. This calm and calculating Starscream, they knew from long experience, was far more dangerous than the livid and screeching one they got used to lately. 

“How do you want to do that?” – Thundercracker dared to ask him.

“By removing ourselves from the equation.” – Starscream stood, the fresh welds crisscrossing his frame flashing in the lightning ominously – “Follow me.”


	15. Skyfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to change and priorities are questioned. And in the center of it is... who else but Starscream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no interface in this chapter either. The plot completely hijacked this formerly kinkmeme story. :-)

Things were so quiet for so long that it started to worry the Autobot officers. No attacks were reported anywhere, no disturbances were observed, not even a single colourful jet flying threateningly over cities. It was queer almost and Prowl sat down with Jazz to plan a spying mission, to find out just what Megatron was planning. For it to take so much time it must have been something spectacular. But just before Mirage could go, the ice broke and the Decepticon alert called them to a big power station. Somewhat relieved, somewhat still apprehensive, the Autobots set out to counter them and protect the humans.

The ensuing battle once they got there was short, decisive and ended with a complete victory. The mysterious device that Megatron was toting failed completely and upon exploding injured only himself and the nervous Soundwave standing nearby. The Aerialbots easily kept the Con gestalts from combining and the frontliners dealt with the components fast and definitively. The single trine of Seekers present, Thrust and his wingmates were so pathetic that Air Raid and Skydive flew circles around them, shooting them for sport and grounding them in revenge for Silverbolt. In the end, Optimus Prime was almost tempted to offer help for the dented, banged-up and scorched Cons to get their damaged selves back to the Nemesis – although he quashed the thought before he’d say it aloud.

“Have you seen them?” – Silverbolt commed in the gestalt’s frequency to his wingmates enquiringly. He didn’t have to elaborate on whom he meant, as all of them wondered about the elite trine’s whereabouts all through the battle.

“Nope, sorry, Bolt.” – Air Raid answered – “It looked like Thrust was in charge today.”

“Do you think Megatron punished them again…?” – Fireflight was worried about… Skywarp mainly, but the other two too.

“Could be… “ – Silverbolt’s tone held a distinct worry, which none of them commented on. – “Dive, Raid, could you go to our place, to see if somemech is there? I’m watched now, I can’t go but you have a scheduled patrol coming up.”

“Okay, Bolt.”

His relationship with Starscream was no secret now from his gestalt-mates and neither was the fiasco of their last meeting, with Starscream storming out on him insulted and angry. But with the attention of the officers on them, the Aerialbots so far couldn’t find an opportunity to meet with the Seekers again and clear matters among them.

Silverbolt stayed near the battle, circling them to make sure no Con straggler came close and occasionally lent his strength to the cleanup, while Fireflight and Slingshot made the best impression of being four jets instead of two, their antics sometimes making even the Concorde smile through his worries. When, on the way back to the Ark, the excited Skydive and Air Raid joined them, he couldn’t wait any more.

“So? What happened? Did you find them?”

“Sure thing Bolt! I mean only one of them was there, Thundercracker but we talked and you won’t believe it what happened!”

Air Raid waggled his wings and his tone nearly screamed for Silverbolt to ask already. The Concord would have buried his face into his palms, had he been in root form. The brash jet was incorrigible. 

“Will. You. Please. Tell. NOW?!?” – he forced his tone to be calm. Well, calm-ish.

“They defected. Umm, I’m not sure that’s the right word…” – Skydive answered instead of Air Raid – “…anyhow, they’ve gone neutral.”

Silverbolt stared disbelievingly and lost altitude, scrambling to catch up.

“Seriously?”

“We think so. Thundercracker didn’t have the Con logo on his wings and he swore that Starscream was serious about it!” – Air Raid was pouting at Skydive because he told the news before him, so he hurried to add his bit.

“Apparently you had more of an effect on him last time than you gave yourself credit for.”

“Where are they then? And how…?”

“TC wouldn’t tell. He said what we don’t know we can’t tell to the Prime. Or Prowl. But he said they would check on this place regularly if we want to meet and gave me their comm frequency too.”

“Did he say anything… about Starscream? Is he all right?”

Skydive’s voice held a little, fond exasperation beside the smile as he answered.

“He is fine. Thundercracker said he has a message for you: he understands.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah, that’s all. Look, Bolt, what did you expect? He is Starscream. He won’t admit being wrong or misjudging your words or whatnot. Be glad he understands it now.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right, Dive.”

They arrived back to the Ark then and the conversation ended until they could be alone again in the Aerialbots’ hangar. But Fireflight had one more question for them to think about; a typically naive, but straight to the point Fireflight-question.

“Hey guys! Why don’t we go with them?”

 

-o-o-o-

Skyfire often went for solo flights in the solar system to clear his processor and calm his feelings. Space for him was familiar, comfortable and blissfully empty compared to Earth in general and the Ark in particular. Here, he only had to care about space phenomena and gravitational forces, not prejudiced, mistrusting or outright inimical mechs, some of the Autobots, especially for some reason the minibots were. To the best of his knowledge, he had done nothing personally to earn Cliffjumper or Windcharger’s hatred so it must have originated from being a flier – and Starscream’s former partner too, he supposed. 

But space was his friend even without the prejudice he had to face on the ground. It was every shuttle’s friend. They were created and coded to function here, their heavy, huge frames forever awkward in the gravity of planets and the structures meant for smaller mechs, but effortlessly floating or swiftly travelling around in the empty black coldness of space. Skyfire has long learned to work efficiently in the science labs on any planet and his size rarely ever bothered him any more – but still, it was in space where he could truly be himself and exploring the universe was his main calling.

Lazily, he circled a little planetoid, his sensors registering all relevant information about it, from its path till its composition and he swung around, aiming for the next rock in the asteroid belt. It was only marginally more interesting, Skyfire mused, as he noted the apparent extra-system origin of it and the slight error in the path it followed; in a few thousand solar rotations it would probably fall into the sun, insignificant as that event would be. But his musing was cut short by an entirely different signal and Skyfire kicked in his engines to get away from the dark frame of the other shuttle, who’s appeared from behind a bigger rock.

“Hey! Wait!”

The comm was a surprise. How did Blast Off get to know his comm frequency? Skyfire wondered for a klik, but he didn’t intend to stay to ask. His engines on full blast, he tried to put distance between them – before the Decepticon started shooting or whatnot. They didn’t have any compulsion against having weapons and using them, unlike himself.

“Skyfire! Wait! I mean… I won’t attack if you won’t, okay?”

Skyfire throttled back a tiny bit, thinking furiously. Could he trust Blast Off? Then he snorted. Trust… a Decepticon? He had a particular reason to avoid this Decepticon anyway.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I just… heard that you know about the coding now.” – Blast Off’s normally grumpy or haughty voice was odd somehow, insecure a bit, reminding Skyfire of the Shuttling he had known long ago, trying to sound sure but failing sometimes. – “Can we… talk?”

“I won’t be your… conquest, Blast Off. My coding is off and it shall remain so.”

“I… what? I didn’t mean to… look, I could have activated it for you earlier, but I didn’t. I didn’t even tell about it to any mech, not even my gestalt!”

Skyfire paused. It was true, as far as he knew; Blast Off could have done a lot more harm before, in any of the battles they saw each other. 

“What then? Why do you follow me?”

They were speeding through the solar system, dodging planets and asteroids like cars dodge hazards on an adventure track. They were evenly matched; Blast Off slightly stronger and faster, but Skyfire still retaining the edge by being more manoeuvrable, both of them easily holding a conversation in the midst of the challenging space-flight. 

“Do you understand now what you saw back then, Skyfire?”

Skyfire nearly hit a small, misshapen lump of a rock in shock and only a last-klik course correction saved him from the embarrassing blunder. He slowed and let the darker shuttle catch up, until they were in a stable orbit around Saturn; the Con safely a ring away from him. 

“I… I think, I do now.” – he remembered back that furious, disappointed and upsetting event and his orbit wavered a bit before smoothing out. – “It was… your coding acting up, I guess.”

“Yes!” – Blast Off’s voice betrayed a tiny bit of relief – “I wasn’t… I didn’t cheat you. But he challenged me and I couldn’t refuse it.”

“Including the interface, I suppose…” – Skyfire’s tone was still frostier than the ice on Europa, the moon just passing them on its orbit around Jupiter. 

“Yes.” – Blast Off’s tone was unwavering and… honest? ... as he slowly manipulated his path to take him closer to the white shuttle – “You know that I had no choice in that either. Starscream said that you know all about the coding now.”

“I do.” – Skyfire paused and refused to give in the urge to shift his orbit too – “I suppose that I can’t blame you now, in the light of it.”

“I’m… uhh... glad to hear that.”

Blast Off’s tone betrayed just how much he tried to be polite and… nice? Skyfire gave him this much, but still slid a little further orbit. They were still enemies. The misunderstanding that happened megavorns ago didn’t change what happened since.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

“Yes… have you heard what Starscream did?” 

The darker shuttle kept following the lighter one onto ever tighter orbits around the colourful planet, like they were playing hide and seek amongst the rings and moons.

“No. What did the Air Commander do?” – he wouldn’t betray his worry which was gnawing on his innards. Starscream was brilliant, true, but also brash, impetuous and foolhardy. The last he heard was that the Seeker was barely functioning after provoking Megatron again.

“He defected two orns ago.”

“What?!?” – Skyfire nearly stalled before he collected himself and sped out of orbit, with Blast Off at his tailfins – “I must go back. I haven’t heard anything about it. Are you sure?”

“Hey, slow down! He didn’t defect to the Bots.” – the dark shuttle tried to keep up with him – “They’ve gone neutral, if you can believe that.”

Skyfire couldn’t even decide what to ask first but he did throttle back his engines a little bit.

“They?”

“The three of them.” – Blast Off’s voice didn’t quite say idiot, but it was close. – “His Trine.”

“Ohhh… of course. But… why? I mean why now? And what did… Megatron do about them?”

“Why, why not, it’s not my problem. He was scrapped before by Megatron, but can’t say it’s the first time for that, so… I have no idea. Megatron is furious of course and they are all dead if… when he finds them. I think he is serious this time.”

“Ohhh…” – Skyfire’s voice was small and tight.

“I must know… what happened between you and him? Because you have no coding and he never told you about it either.”

“We are friends. Were friends. Nothing more.” – Skyfire was annoyed. He didn’t owe an explanation to his former… fiancé, not since they broke up. And it was really almost nothing. Two disappointed, cheated, hurt mechs finding solace in each other’s company… they never got as far as interfacing really. They were too busy to hide their wounds from the other. – “Why?”

The dark shuttle sped up and flew closer to him – and Skyfire didn’t slide away. By space measurements they were nearly touching wings. 

“I heard that you might be interested in joining him.” – the tone was carefully neutral.

“You heard wrong!” 

“Not that he is interested. He is helm over tailfins for that Aerialbot brat.”

If Blast Off intended that to awaken jealousy then he was so far off the mark as to be in a different galaxy, Skyfire mused. The apparent resentment strangely made him calmer and he could think more clearly.

“I know. Been there, seen that.” – he answered shortly – “I think they are a good pair.” – he wouldn’t dare to call Starscream cute, not when Blast Off might pass that on to the Seeker.

“So you aren’t interested?”

“I told you we were friends! I’m glad he is out of Megatron’s claws, and I wish him well.” – they were near to Earth’s orbit now and Skyfire slowed down before re-entry – “It is time to part. We shouldn’t turn up in the other’s company.”

Blast Off blocked his path towards down and the dark shuttle was quiet for several kliks, like he was struggling to express what he wanted.

“Skyfire… I’m as fed up by this pointless, lost cause of a war as most Decepticons… as Starscream too. This band of lowly thugs is just… not for me. If I had somewhere to go, I’d’ve gone before. But I didn’t. No safe place, no incentive… and the Bots are not for me either. But now…” – he stopped again, his engines lurching uneasily – “… if you are as peaceful and neutral as you’ve always said…” – his deeper voice got quieter, almost lost in the grumbling of his engines. Skyfire had to listen carefully to understand him and he thought he might be hearing wrong what was said… - “… and as you understand now what I did… and so I wouldn’t be against renewing our… ummm… courting? As neutrals? Starscream has a chance to pull it through… and we, with them.”

“Are you… serious?”

Skyfire, to his greatest surprise was actually considering the offer. It wasn’t as shocking as it appeared at first; Blast Off was right, Skyfire never hid his peaceful composition and his wish to be as neutral as much as the war allowed it. He stayed with the Autobots because he had no better place to go and they were at least better than the Cons. He broke off with Blast Off, because of a misunderstanding that he now understood and accepted. And Starscream, with his usual stroke of brilliance now provided a way out for both of them. Or more… but he needed to think about it. Skyfire wasn’t one to act impulsively, not like Starscream. He thought things over and weighed the consequences. He would do so now too.

“I am.” – Blast Off as usual didn’t waste words when he felt them unnecessary.

“I… need time to think about it. It is not a no! But I must consider everything.”

Skyfire felt the other shuttle slid away and he felt strangely sad for it.

“As you wish. But Skyfire… I won’t wait forever.”

“Understood. I’ll… I’ll comm you in three orns with an answer.”

-o-o-o-

“Skyfire, are you sure of this info?”

“Yes, Prime, Sir. Starscream and his Trine left the Decepticons and declared themselves neutrals.”

Optimus Prime couldn’t quite cover up his surprise. Prowl, beside him was his usual calm and thoughtful self, Ironhide already growling, and Jazz strangely introspective. Skyfire desperately hoped that they would be… understanding? He wasn’t sure what he hoped, but something positive at least.

“What are we going to do about it?”

“Wait, wait. How do we know it is not a ploy? With Starscream it is… entirely possible.”

“They are apparently very serious about it. Took the Decepticon emblem off their wings.”

“Still… even if they mean it, we can’t let them run loose. Harass humans and steal energon.”

“Starscream and sincerity? Try another one, Skyfire. Ah say let’s hunt them down before it’s too late.”

“While I understand that you have reasons to trust Starscream – and I don’t blame you for it – we don’t have the same certainty. I’m afraid, we can’t trust the enemy SIC suddenly going neutral, it is just too… unbelievable.

Skyfire looked from one officer to the other, hope being crushed in his spark at the suspicious, mistrustful words. He tried to appeal to their common sense one last time.

“Don’t you think it would be worth approaching them now? When he already has some ties to the Aerialbots, and even proved that he could be benevolent – and Megatron cast him out for some reason? Would it not worth to try?”

“Too risky.” – Ironhide was adamant. – “He’d betray us.”

“We could go headlong into a trap.”

“No, Skyfire, I’m sorry, but no. I can’t see what that would accomplish. We don’t trust him, he doesn’t trust us… it would never work.”

“It has all the marks of a plot. We can’t afford to fall into it, much less to step into it deliberately.”

“But we could make it work… “ – Skyfire was nearly begging, though he already felt the futility of it. Neither of the officers, not even Jazz was seriously considering approaching Starscream or trusting him. 

“It is not us, Skyfire… it is Starscream. We can’t trust him.”

Skyfire nodded his helm slowly, unable to speak any more. He stood up from the too small chair and nodded again, this time to acknowledge the decision and excused himself from the officers’ meeting. He acutely felt the glances on his back plating and wings – the distinctly suspicious looks. Ohhh, the Prime told he wouldn’t hold his long-ago friendship with Starscream against him and he truly wouldn’t. He knew that. But the rest of them weren’t so noble and he has just made them even more suspicious. 

Suddenly the other shuttle’s words rose up in his processor again, telling him that they could be neutrals again. But Blast Off was a Decepticon and he couldn’t trust him as much as he did with Starscream. The break was too long ago, they were both barely adults then and the whole war has gone by during which the dark shuttle became a warrior and a vicious killer. How could he trust him…?

Skyfire suddenly stopped on his way to his quarters. What was he thinking? Weren’t the same things true to Starscream too? And he still decided that the Seeker was honest in defecting. So why not take the same risk with Blast Off? If he was honest with himself, the dark shuttle held the same allure than megavorns ago – that much hasn’t changed, it was just buried deeply, under his myriad experiences. So it wasn’t unimaginable to pick up that broken pieces and try to weld them together. Especially, as the main reason for that break was, he knew now, not what it had seemed. Yes, Blast Off was still that aggressive and dominating kind he knew him as Shuttling, but it never disturbed him before and he could still handle a haughty partner to satisfaction. 

In slower steps, Skyfire continued down the corridors, almost feeling the cameras bore into his plating. Red Alert was sure to watch him with extra attention now, after that little meeting. It wasn’t until he recognized the doorway in front of him that he realized that his pondering steps took him not to his quarters but to the Aerialbots’ hangar. Well, at least they deserved to know about Starscream too, he mused and signalled the door. Maybe about his decision as well. They weren’t as young or stupid most Autobots took them for.

-o-o-o-

Starscream strangely enjoyed being neutral. The lack of beatings was a definite plus, the sheer amount of flying they were able to do, and together too, was doing wonders for the Trine, and his wingmates’ moods, and they had everything they needed from a comfortable place till plenty of energon. And they didn’t have to fight for it with either disgusting organics or their protectors, the noble Autobots. He just had to find a human tribe – or country as they called themselves - with sufficient envy for the Autobots but enough resentment for the other tribe and plenty of resources; play moderately nice with them and here they were. A daily patrol around their insignificant borders was hardly even a chore. 

And really, he had no real problems with organics. True, he preferred them on a lab table, under a microscope, but provided they kept their distance and didn’t put a hand on his plating, they were tolerable. After the first few negotiations, their leaders learned that he ignored any stupid ones among the delegation, no matter their rank or title and so their new liaisons were possessing sufficient intelligence for even meaningful talks.

Megatron sent him ornly death threats, but if the slagger thought that he would be cowed by mere words, he had another thing coming. He would never dare to lead the Decepticons against them, not when he, too knew that many of them would join the Seekers if given the choice. The Combaticons were particularly mutinous and Blast Off looked completely ready to leave with them, but he wouldn’t put past Hook and his gestalt to defect either and Soundwave also might if he saw how they were practically swimming in energon. The telepath was always struggling to feed his spawn from their meagre rations.

He trusted the human politicians to deter the Autobots from creating a military incident with a semi-allied, but independent country especially one so far from them. They were so noble, they probably wouldn’t attack them without provocation anyway, and Starscream didn’t intend to give them an excuse. He was not the kind to thoughtlessly wreak havoc for no reason, he was fairly content in working in a lab and even share some of his results with the humans. Skywarp was a bit harder to keep in check, but Thundercracker was working on him hard. And really, even the pranks he played on the humans were not lethal lately. 

The only thing worried him was the Aerialbots. TC talked with some of them once, so they knew what was going on, but he still wasn’t sure how this one would play out. Silverbolt… the jet was just so young, so…gullible?... and the Autobots weren’t all like their noble and just leader, Optimus Prime. He was afraid that they could turn them against him when he wasn’t there to correct their – sometimes deliberate – twisting of stories, their slander of Seekers and warbuilds, and stuff his helm with slander about him personally. Their angry parting probably didn’t help his case any. 

But then, he couldn’t very well prance into the Ark and talk to them. So, Starscream waited, sometimes he wasn’t sure what, skirted the Autobot-regions in vain hopes of meeting with the young gestalt - and in the meanwhile fretted. Until one orn…

“How many signals did you say Thundercracker?”

“It is still seven, Starscream, don’t ask it any more times.”

Five was the gestalt, the sixth could be Skyfire… but who was the seventh?

p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hardly ever wrote Blast Off (as an adult) before, so he might come across strange a bit. Sorry about that!


	16. Silverbolt

Skyfire was content to fly well behind the Aerialbots’ chaotic and unpredictable paths. He felt too slow – and somewhat old - for their antics and besides he had a company of his own. Silverbolt was at first alarmed to see the Decepticon shuttle approaching them, but Skyfire told them briefly about the other’s willingness to leave his troublesome gestalt and the army behind and join the fliers’s group instead. On the way he reminisced with Blast Off about Iacon and Tarn long ago, the places and mechs they both knew that disappeared long ago… it was a safe way to reconnect and refamiliarize with each other after the long separation. 

The Decepticon shuttle was almost comically surprised when Skyfire contacted him, like he didn’t believe that it would happen, but sounded happy about his decision. They met at a safe place, well away from both factions and though the Aerialbots were initially wary of him, Skyfire hoped that they could live together peacefully. At least there was nothing personal between them, aside from being from the opposite armies – and that would have to go now that they were all neutrals. 

When they arrived to the place Starscream claimed as his own, slightly behind the Aerials, Skyfire, still in the air was treated to an almost familiar scene. Underneath him, on the dusty desert ground the two Seeker groups faced off, like months ago, when they first met, though he only knew that scene from descriptions. Starscream and Silverbolt was of course in the center, fanning out around them the gestalt on one side, the Elite Trine on the other. Both leaders were trying to dominate by sheer presence, and as far as Skyfire could judge it, it was so far a draw.

Starscream was winning the flaring wings contest servos down, while the size and consequently the dominating mass was definitely on Silverbolt’s side. Starscream balanced this latter out by a few thousand vorns’ worth of a haughty stare, which the Concord had no hope to match. But he had more wingmates facing off the Air Commander’s two and all four of them knew their role this time. Skyfire was fascinated by the exciting and exotic display ahead of them, while Blast Off murmured appreciatively at it. 

It was of course their coding acting up again; after all, Starscream’s little workaround was in effect only as far as they were enemies. Since turning neutral, it was acting up in full force, making them both trying to be the dominant Seeker around. There was no challenge made yet, it was just an initial reaction to the presence of another Trine-leader, a dominant Seeker, but Skyfire had no doubt that neither would back down, not here and now. Though he also doubted that Silverbolt would actually outright challenge Starscream.

They landed as quietly as two shuttles could – which is not very, even under the best of circumstances, but Skyfire didn’t want to disturb the standoff. A quick look around revealed the makeshift hangar which served as the Seekers’ temporary home, several other constructions indeterminable at one look – and some concrete lower levels with framework reaching upwards of what looked to be a… tower? He couldn’t believe his optics. Starscream was actually building an Aerie here? Skyfire hasn’t seen a real Vosian spire since Cybertron and to see the beginnings of one was awakening warm memories even in him, the Iacon-born shuttle. But the breaking of silence shook him out of his memories…

“There can be only one leader to this… outfit.”

Starscream’s voice hasn’t improved lately and it was always worse when he tried to growl. His vocal range just wasn’t made for that register. But no mech present was inclined to laugh at him for it, they were too busy awaiting Silverbolt’s answer to that. A quick glance to his side confirmed to Skyfire that Blast Off had absolutely no intention to enter to that particular challenge – because challenge it was from Starscream, who apparently had enough of waiting for the younger Aerial to formally issue his.

“B-but I didn’t… oh Primus…!”

Silverbolt had apparently acted entirely on coding-instincts and has just realized how it looked. He was wavering between standing down or answering the challenge, but he must have got a comm from somewhere, because he his unsure glance flitted briefly to Thundercracker and back to Starscream and it apparently decided the matter.

“I… could lead too.”

It was a kinda lame answer from one challenging for leadership and Skyfire had the sudden sense that both Starscream’s trine-mates wanted to facepalm… and Air Raid was close too. But an answer it was none the less and Starscream’s wings flared impossibly even more, until Skyfire feared for the hinges to break. 

“My rank is the same as yours.” – Silverbolt amended himself in a better display of proudness and a ghost of a smile flashed through Starscream’s face.

“Put your wings then where your vocalizer is, then!”

The dominant Seeker accepting the challenge has broken some kind of an ice. Their wingmates have all retreated, Starscream’s in a bit more order, even with Skywarp and the two of them backed off too a few steps to take off. Since it was formally Starscream who issued the challenge, it was his right to start first and the tricoloured Seeker didn’t hesitate to jump into the air, fold into his alt mode and take off with his usual, impressive speed. Silverbolt followed him much slower and seemingly still fairly unsure of himself.

“It should be interesting.” – Blast Off noted while they all sat on some boulders and chairs the Seekers dragged out of the hangar – “It’s been vorns and vorns since the Air Commander was formally challenged. Or challenging.”

“Was he often…?” – ohh. Stupid question. How else would Starscream get to be Air Commander than through ranking fights, he suddenly realized.

“At first. But none dared since he got the rank. Well, Thrust sometimes, but those were rather a joke than a real contest.” 

Once their wingleaders were in the air, the Seekers and the Aerials had no compunction to mingle and chat as they watched the contestants fly overhead. The two shuttles sat a bit farther from the laughing, talking and socializing group, Skyfire enjoying their merry, while Blast Off a bit stiff and wary of it still. 

Overhead, Starscream was leading Silverbolt on, purposefully putting the Concorde through his paces. The larger flier had zero chance to catch up with the Seeker’s superior speed, but Starscream seemingly didn’t leave him in the dust, letting him catch up sometimes, so Silverbolt could – if he wanted to – try and ground him with his greater mass. The young Aerial tried to, Skyfire gave him this much, employing difficult and dangerous manoeuvres for his build to try and deal with the Seeker – but Starscream didn’t get his fame in the air by mail. He was slipping out from every try to trap him, his turns always tighter, his rolls always faster than his larger contender. 

They were a brilliant display overhead, in the backdrop of endlessly blue sky with the sun low and casting mellow colours around them. Silverbolt’s lighter tones and greater size dominated the scene, but Starscream’s own colours flashed brightly in the sun as he twisted and turned and got out of every trap the Concorde tried to set him. He was not quite toying with Silverbolt, but certainly no putting everything he had into it – not yet. He let the other show what he was capable of.

A quick glance to Thundercracker and his completely at ease facial features confirmed Skyfire’s suspicion – the blue Seeker was not worried about the outcome of the challenge the very least. Nor were the Aerials either, but Skyfire suspected that they didn’t expect Silverbolt to win anyway. 

Then suddenly he saw Silverbolt’s trademark weapon crackle its deadly charge between them and the collective gasp from all mechs present as the tricoloured frame sparkled for a klik with the charge, his colours impossibly bright and his engines stalling… and then he dropped suddenly, straight down. Skyfire gasped and stood suddenly, but Blast Off dragged him back down.

“Don’t worry. It looks bad, but that charge dissipates in a klik. We met with his weapon in battle quite a few times.”

“B-but… they can use weapons too?”

“Of course. They can use anything basically, the only bad form is to permanently offline your challenger.”

Neither of the Seekers looked particularly worried, when Skyfire hesitantly sat back and glanced over. If anything they perked up, like the really interesting part of the challenge has just began. Which it did. Starscream came out of the freefall practically over their helms, his afterburners growling deeply at the strain, but he swept up straight away, barely avoiding the Concorde who waited to see the effect of his attack. It was Silverbolt’s turn to scramble or get run over by the smaller flier and his evasive manoeuvres weren’t as smooth or elegant as Starscream’s.

The aerial battle changed and now it was Starscream attacking the larger Concorde, pursuing him all over the place, utilizing his full speed and far greater experience. It was Silverbolt’s praise that he somehow managed to avoid being grounded many times as Starscream silently upped the tempo. But he couldn’t avoid it forever. His turns got sloppier as he tired out, the smaller mistakes grew and multiplied, while his strength weakened; and after a few more breems’ of relentless pursuing it was inevitable that Starscream eventually herded, forced and pressed him down, towards the ground.

The aerial battle about to end, the onlookers stood and watched the entwined jets as they got lower and lower. In the end Silverbolt dropped to the dusty, red ground heavily, his landing gear buckling under him and Starscream following in a perfect landing only a klik later. He transformed fast and stood over his beaten challenger, his faceplates shining with content joy from flying and his optics flashing victoriously. With those marvellous wings flaring proudly and vents wheezing to dispel hot air, Starscream cut a fine figure.

It took Silverbolt longer to transform and slowly straighten up from his undignified sprawl, his embarrassment clearly visible even on his dust-smeared face. Starscream made a move to help him up, but it would be bad form after the challenge, degrading to the looser and so he refrained from it, stepping backwards instead to give the Concord space. Their teammates swarmed around them, clapping, laughing, praising, Silverbolt’s lightly petting his wings, offering comfort. Aside from his still flaming faceplates the scene almost looked… festive?

“It wasn’t a real serious fight either.” – Blast Off offered as in explanation, a slight scoff in his tone – “Starscream could have made confetti of him had he really tried to.”

Skyfire had to agree with the fellow shuttle – whom he was more and more ready to accept as not-Decepticon, if not for the still visible brands. Starscream had gone really easy on the young Aerial, not wanting to shame or embarrass him, but still not giving him a chance to win. 

But they still had the ritual to complete… and Silverbolt waved his team back once again, facing Starscream who was waiting with his arms crossed over his cockpit and wings proudly held high. Thundercracker and Skywarp retreated a klik after the Aerialbots, leaving the leaders once again alone with each other in the middle of the dusty red space amongst the structures, which acted as sort of a main square for the future settlement.

Silverbolt’s faceplates were burning with shame, even though he never expected to win against Starscream. Still, losing was a horrifying experience, which he hoped not to be repeated any time soon. The ritual itself was a more familiar ground and he had no problem with kneeling and bending over so Starscream could approach him from behind. He spoke up just low enough to be heard by the Seeker.

“I’m sorry for last time… I didn’t mean it insulting.” – he turned his helm to the side and just caught Starscream’s answering smile.

“I understand now.” – the smile twisted into something more self-deprecating and Silverbolt felt the blue servos stroke his wings, back and slide slowly lower – “I have perhaps overreacted it too.”

Silverbolt was glad that the seemingly so important disagreement was solved just like that. He got the feeling that Starscream, too was embarrassed by the whole thing, only hid it better. But soon his thoughts were disrupted by the blue servos insistently petting his wings and making him all hot and bothered. He moaned lowly and rubbed his aft backwards insistently, rewarded by a throaty laugh from Starscream and his red pelvic plates grinding back, causing delicious friction in all the best places. 

His cover snapped back all too soon and lubricant seeped out already, smearing on their plates. His valve clenched and its aching emptiness yearned for the Seeker’s spike as much as he yearned for the mech himself too. It went far more than just the delicious frag, he wanted Starscream in any way he could including… Silverbolt froze for a nanoklik, his processor balking at the idea that made his spark spin excitedly… yes, he wanted to merge with the Seeker, join their sparks, their innermost beings, their feelings and share them all. 

Maybe later… he hoped, no, he knew that Starscream felt the same, even if he wouldn’t admit it… yet. For now he enjoyed as the deft servos petted, stroked and scratched his plating, drawing tingling tracks on them and exciting the sensors. It was almost too much and he groaned impatiently, wishing to be filled and stretched and satisfied at last…

And Starscream felt his want, his need and sank into his drenched valve in a single, perfect thrust that made Silverbolt moan loudly as his sensors were fired off almost at once, cascading into his lust-filled processor… and it became even better when Starscream pulled out and started to thrust, each perfect stroke raising Silverbolt’s charge to impossible heights and making him tremble and moan unabashedly. 

He was loud, Silverbolt knew, unusually loud as something he never felt before made their interface so much better than in their previous meetings. It was, he realized with his lust and pleasure-hazed processor, the feeling of freedom, the lack of worry about the Autobot officers’ inevitable disapproval to his actions, that finally, finally, he could do what he wanted, what his coding wanted… and what he loved to do too. 

Never before he met with somemech so completely accepting him for who and what he was; a flier, a Seeker, but also a leader of his own gestalt, a brother for his brothers… but for Starscream it was natural, as he himself had the same roles with his Trine. It was liberating and spark-warming to be accepted, valued for what he really was… and maybe loved too, for he was certain that Starscream felt something for him personally too… what exactly it was he would learn in time.

But the weighty thoughts were scattered by the increasingly powerful thrusts, the charge that rose in his circuits and the haze of pleasure in his processor. Starscream’s servos were grasping his hips and wings in the attempt to pull him back, onto his spike, which he thrust deep into his valve. His callipers started to clench involuntarily and Silverbolt shouted as the spike hit a particularly sensitive cluster of sensors and he lost it, yelled out as overload claimed him…

But in barely a klik he felt the invading spike thrust a few more times, twitch and when it shot him full of transfluid, Silverbolt fell yelling into the secondary overload, all the more overwhelming because of his oversensitised valve sensors reacting strongly… and he heard Starscream’s shout too mixing with the sounds he made and the tricoloured Seeker slumping onto his back in a nearly strutless sprawl. Silverbolt’s knee-joints shook as he kept both of them upright – more or less – as he swam in the pleasant, warm ocean of sated contentment and tired, grinning pleasure. 

-o-o-o-

“Prowl to Silverbolt.”

“…”

“Silverbolt, you and your team are late for patrol… again. Answer immediately.”

“…”

“Teletraan, location of Silverbolt?”

“Air Commander Silverbolt is not within the Ark.”

Prowl sighed inwardly. The Aerialbots really had no inkling of military protocol or simple punctuality but he expected at least Silverbolt to be better. And even if they were out flying, the Concorde should have at least answered his comm. Unless… unless he’s snuck out to meet with Starscream… again and against orders. Prowl had enough of Optimus Prime letting such blatant fraternization with the enemy pass. When Silverbolt returned, Prowl would decide his punishment, not taking it to the Prime who would just sigh and admonish the errant flier uselessly. 

But while he waited to that eventuality, there were reports to read and file, decisions to make and strategy to be planned – and Prowl realized that once again he got lost in them when Perceptor commed him. It was unusual, as the little scientist very rarely had a problem that required his attention, so Prowl paid him full attention.

“Prowl, do you know where did Skyfire disappear to? He should be transporting us to a location where we planned an experiment, but failed to turn up, doesn’t answer his comm, and he is not in his room either.”

Prowl frowned as he set the datapad down to his desk. It wasn’t like the placid shuttle to forget his appointments like the Aerialbots. But a query to Teletraan only revealed that Skyfire, like Silverbolt and all the Aerialbots were not in or near the Ark and haven’t been there for the last orn and a half. The matter turned serious, when, after the second orn and some frantic searches a terse message was sent to the Ark, notifying them of Skyfire’s decision to turn neutral and cut any ties with the Autobot army. Straight on the heels of the message, came one from Silverbolt, less formally phrased but essentially with the same message, signed also by all his teammates.

The ensuing investigation revealed them all to be in Australia, along with the Decepticon-turned-neutral Seekers and human diplomatic enquiries revealed that they stayed there with the permission of the government, on the basis of a formal treaty which recognized them all as neutrals and categorically refused to extradite any of them to either American or Autobot authorities. The Decepticons apparently didn’t ask extradition, instead they sent death threats, which were promptly ignored. Similarly ignored were the Autobot request to land there and approach the newly established neutral Cybertronian colony, deep in the middle of the continent.

“It is my fault, Prime and I accept full responsibility for my advice.”

“Prowl, it doesn’t matter now who was responsible. Myself, too was wary of trusting Starscream’s intentions.”

“But I should have extrapolated that Starscream’s move, whether it is for real or a ploy – would entice the already sympathetic Aerialbots.”

“And what should we have done, had you done that? Imprison them for… what, being sympathetic?”

“They have taken an oath.” – the Praxian’s doorwings were low with shame but stiff with his disapproval of the defection.

“Actually, no, they haven’t.” – all officers present turned their optics to the Prime with varying amount of disbelief – “We never came around to that, at least formally. Besides, they are legally too young to be soldiers or swear an oath for that matter.”

There was silence in the meeting room for a few breems while the mechs present slowly realized the significance of that. 

“In that case…” – said Prowl slowly – “ we have no means to call them back and we lost not only a gestalt but nearly the whole of our aerial force.”

The silence was complete in the meeting room, all officers realizing the ramifications of this development. 

“Well, at least Megs lost his Elite Trine as well.” – Jazz wasn’t happy, but tried to see the advantages in the situation.

“He still has fliers. We only have… ummm, Powerglide, who, alone is definitely no match for a Seeker Trine.”

“What about if… if he’s going to defect as well?”

“I talked to him and he denies having this coding or wanting to join the Seekers. Ratchet concurs about the coding at least.”

“How is the crew taking it, Jazz?”

“Mostly by saying that the Aerials were like the ‘fragging Seekers anyway’. Not surprised, most of them, and there is only some slight aggression against them for defecting.”

Optimus Prime glanced at Ironhide, whom he expected to be far more angrier about it himself. Noticing his glance, the red mech just shrugged and mumbled nearly embarrassed.

“Fraggin’ hard ta be angry at ‘em. They’re too young.”

Optimus Prime looked surprised for a klik, but he nodded only, accepting the reasoning. No doubt his crew was similarly viewing the Aerialbots and not condemning them as hard as they would any other mech. Skyfire was mostly viewed as neutral anyhow, and a partner of Starscream for long, so his leaving wasn’t shocking either. Though the shuttle did take the Autobot oath and for the Prime it was a more weighty matter, but the crew hardly ever associated with him, so he was like a stranger living amongst them.

“Recommendations about the situation? Anyone?”

“I’m going to change our access, codes and security protocols.” – Red Alert took the defection the hardest surprisingly, acting like it was a personal affront. – “I’ve always told not to trust those jets and I was right.”

“Red, maybe that attitude helped them to decide going over…” – Jazz so far spoke little, but the spec ops commander knew perhaps better than any of them how much the young fliers hated the prejudice they so often had to face with. – “Our prejudice against anymech with wings.”

“I must concur.” – Prowl was perhaps the one seeing his mistake the clearest – “Had we been a bit more accepting of their… social differences, they might not have chosen to part with us.”

“Skyfire was right, we should have tried to approach the newly neutral Seekers. That way we would have gained forces not lost some.”

“Or been betrayed.” – Red Alert wasn’t easy to convince.

“We have failed to utilize that opportunity so now we have to think of the future.” – Optimus Prime looked sad and worried – “I propose to start negotiating with them, consider them truly neutrals and build up a cautious, but hopefully friendly relationship.”

“Why not just storm them? We have some obligations to the humans they probably abuse or exploit there.”

“Ironhide, you don’t say that seriously, right? Besides the inadvisability of a ground-bound army attacking fliers, we already got notices from our human allies that any such attempt would be a diplomatic catastrophe. Humans have their alliances and we can’t just attack a friendly, allied country that decided to accept the Seekers.”

“But what about the humans there…?”

“They have agreed to take the Seekers in. No matter how Starscream managed that, we can’t defend humans who chose their situation.” – Jazz explained it to the others.

“So we just accept that they’ve defected and… what do nothing?”

“Essentially… yes.” – Optimus Prime’s optics were very serious over his mask – “In time maybe, if they can truly stay neutral we even have to defend them… from Megatron.”

“What?!?”

“It was our duty, Ironhide, if you remember. The fact that there haven’t been any neutrals around for megavorns shouldn’t make us forget that fact.”

“But talking with them is a good idea anyway. Keeping up good relations, if not with Starscream, then at least with Silverbolt, to gain news about what they are doing and so.”

“I agree, Jazz.”

-o-o-o-

“Thrust, congratulations, you are now Air Commander.”

The growled announcement from a visibly irate, annoyed Megatron didn’t have the effect Thrust had always hoped for. Instead of beating Starscream, claiming him and earning the title, he had gotten it like an afterthought after Megatron’s angry speech about the foolishness of the defectors and the promise of retaliation – but no solid plans, nothing concrete as to where, how and when it was going to take place. It was given, not earned and Thrust knew that once the other remaining Seekers got wisp of it, he’d get swamped with challenges he had no hope to win. It promised far more trouble than joy, far more work and pain than he was ready to accept.

“I-I’ll do my best, My Lord!”

But of course he couldn’t and wouldn’t refuse it. It was still a title he’d coveted for so long and hard that no matter the troubles and problems, he’d hold it as far as he could. He could plan aerial strategy, even if not on the level of Starscream and he could fight in the air, especially now that the Autobots lost their accursed gestalt, the Aerialbots. Dealing with Megatron if they lost or made a blunder… well, he wasn’t thinking about it until he didn’t have to. 

“You’d better be…” – it was growled more like a threat than an encouragement.

Thrust didn’t fail to note, just like the other Decepticons that he wasn’t named as SIC, like Starscream was. That particular title went to Soundwave and no mech dared to speak up about it. Especially not the remaining Combaticons who were now held in suspicion, no matter how Onslaught swore that they didn’t know about Blast Off’s intentions and definitely didn’t plan to follow the shuttle. Even with his assurances, the gestalt-leader wasn’t sure how they avoided being beaten to scrap for this. Was Megatron… reluctant to push them too hard, fearing that they’d leave too?

The mood in the Decepticon army was shocked, the morale dropping like their ship did to the bottom of the ocean. Not that they missed the whiny, arrogant Seekers, no. But it was gigavorns since any Con choose to defect outright and all those so far were relentlessly hunted down and made an example of… in various painful ways. Now, the actual SIC of the army was gone, along with his wingmates and Megatron announced no plan to follow them, no actual revenge and punishment… only words, ranting and empty threats. 

As time went by whispers among little groups rose up, discussing whatever news or rumours they acquired. That Seekers were seen flying over the ocean, over this landmass or that. That they befriended with the Autobots and would in time turn against them. That some Autobots defected too and the neutrals would wage war against both their squabbling armies. That the fliers couldn’t care less about the grounders’ war and were content to live free, happy and in opulence.

That last rumour spread fast among the strictly rationed troops living in cramped, dank quarters under the ocean. All wings twitched unhappily at the thought of fresh air and sunlight touching them freely. All tires spun morosely at the thought of endless, empty roads and plenty of energon to roar down on them. There wasn’t even the most devoted and loyal Decepticons who hasn’t pondered a little bit about not having to fight and enjoy life without hardships for a change. If the Seekers could and got no retribution for it…?

-o-o-o-

“So. How is it going to work? Starscream?”

The Seeker visibly had to tear his stare off of the larger jet as his teammates swarmed around him and petted his frame for injuries and calming before he could turn towards the patiently waiting shuttle. He was still venting fast from the challenge and the interface afterwards, and if Skyfire didn’t want to lie to himself, he had to admit that he too felt his interface array tingling at the just ended display. The shuttle suspected that living among Seekers he’d see such a spectacle many times yet. 

“It… is working Skyfire. Why shouldn’t it? We have a solid treaty with the local humans and the rest will have to accept it.”

“I hope that you haven’t threatened them…?”

Starscream cast him a trademark _I’mnotanidiotwhywouldyouthinkso_ look, but Skyfire was nearly immune to those – the Seeker could always present the most far-fetched of his ideas with the most reassuring looks. So he waited patiently until Starscream scowled and answered properly.

“I haven’t. I just reminded them some possible consequences of certain actions.”

Skywarp’s giggle that accompanied the sentence didn’t promise much good.

“Ohh, so that was what it is called now?” – the black Seeker continued to chuckle.

“Shut up, Warp. I haven’t threatened them, Skyfire, but neither have mollycoddled them like the Prime does. We made an agreement and I will honour it as Winglord.”

That he felt necessary to mention his formal title was reassuring in a way. 

“What does it entail, exactly?”

Skyfire noted that the rest of the Aerialbots and Blast Off too started to pay attention and came closer to hear their talk.

“We have a Cybetronian neutral colony here, with complete autonomy on these lands nearby and as much energon the modified solar converters here can create.” - Starscream pointed out the banks of solar panels nearby that were obviously of human make but heavily modified by more Cybetronian-looking equipment. – “Which, by the way is plenty. In exchange we help them with patrols and some technological advice to their scientific bodies. And for your reassurance, we do not harm the squishies in any way. As far as they don’t come here unannounced and get underpede.”

He glared at Skywarp meaningfully but the teleporter just shrugged and looked unrepentant.

“Can’t go around looking at the ground for squishies who sneak around.”

“If you have to, Warp, you will.” – and that was a Trine-leader’s authority speaking and Skywarp nodded unhappily, lowering his wings. – “Anyhow, it is not the humans we should worry about.”

“I’m sure Optimus Prime won’t move against you.”

“I’m counting on that. Even better would be to make some sort of an agreement with them, but they should make the first move and those who chose to be here, are under my authority and will remain so.” 

Starscream turned around slowly, making optic contact with all the newly arrived fliers, looking for acknowledgment of his words. Skyfire understood it perfectly – as leader, as Winglord he had to make sure the loyalty of his subordinates. But the youngsters didn’t seem to understand what was required, so he decided to show a good example.

“I pledge my wings to you, Winglord.”

He was rewarded by a honest smile flashing through dark lipplates and heard the others, Silverbolt first to speak up and repeat his oath, with Blast Off last. Only Thundercracker and Skywarp stayed silent – but then they were bound to Starscream longer and with deeper ties than mere spoken oaths.

“Right. Now, we have a lot to do as you can all see and first you need some quarters.” – Starscream looked around and his glance stopped at Blast Off – “And you can explain what’s going on between you.”


	17. Thrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oookay, I think in this chapter I veer even farther from canon with some things - but then, it's already an AU, so it should not be a problem. :-)
> 
> And it was supposed to be Blast Off's chapter, but Thrust somehow just stole the limelights from him...
> 
> aaand, sorry, no interface in here. :-P

“You were… what?”

“Betrothed, Starscream. You heard well the first time too.”

Skyfire couldn’t help but smirk a little at the indignant expression the Seeker wore. It took a lot to throw Starscream off kilter but that apparently happened here and the shuttle thoroughly enjoyed seeing his old friend splutter with incredulously flared wings. Silverbolt was similarly floored if his gaping mouth and uncertain wings were any indication. Blast Off shifted a little, the dark shuttle obviously not happy about the audience and being in the center of attention. But he didn’t speak up, instead he let Skyfire do the talking.

“It was an arranged match, by our families a very long time ago. Before the two of us even met.”

“And you kept that from me?”

Starscream suddenly seemed more irate than surprised and Skyfire got serious.

“We didn’t part on the best terms, even though it was a misunderstanding…” – he glanced at the former Decepticon apologetically – “… and it isn’t like you shared everything with me either.”

“I protected you by not telling you about the coding!”

“I didn’t mean that, Starscream… look, I might be wrong but something had caused you to leave Vos and come to Iacon alone. I never asked… but in the light of recent events, I think we both had secrets that we kept.”

“I see.” – Starscream looked around, took in the eager faces of the Aerialbots and decided to continue the conversation later, in private. – “And you intend to continue this… engagement now…?”

Skyfire glanced at Blast Off and shrugged a wing. He wasn’t sure. They cleared the misunderstandings, they left their respective armies together… but neither of them touched the matter of ‘ _where to_ ’ just yet. It was too early for that. The willingness was - sort of - there, but the rift was too deep and they have just bridged it. From the look of the other shuttle, he wasn’t so sure either.

“We… might.” – he answered finally, when the silence started to become uneasy – “Nothing has been decided yet.”

“I see.” - Starscream suddenly smirked and Skyfire glanced back with vary suspicion. – “I know that the Iacon shuttles never accepted the Winglord’s rule, but if you ever get bonded, I want to be the one officiating it.”

Worry thankfully lifted, Skyfire smiled back to his old friend, canting his wings respectfully.

“I’d be honoured, Winglord. Even if it is… just a remote possibility.”

“That’s settled then. Let’s get you some quarters now. These flimsy hangars are temporal only and fortunately this place gets very little rain, but the dust gets into everything.”

“We could cover the area we need with concrete.”

“We planned on it, but it is still not enough. The wind blows this red dust all the time.”

Skyfire nodded, acknowledging the problem. As he looked closer, every one of their armour showed a slight accumulation of the fine red dust, making their colours off a little, except Blast Off’s dark plates.

“We need a wash rack too. The dust will get into our joints fast.” – he paused, a worrying thought coming up in his processor – “If this place has any water…?”

Starscream waved his concerns away.

“We just had to drill deep and found water. This planet has that at least in abundance.”

He pointed to a spot a bit farther from the hangar. The crude, shed-like building was unremarkable, but Skyfire noted the signs of mud around it.

“That was what we made first. Not a wash racks, just some hoses and brushes. Shockingly perhaps, but none of us is a plumber, so we didn’t have the semantics for a proper place.”

Skyfire chuckled, together with Silverbolt and Skywarp, and even Starscream smiled a little. The shuttle noticed that the other Aerialbots have already dispersed, having a look around the place, Fireflight poking the mirror-bright solar panels, while Air Raid and Slingshot were arguing whether it was polite or not to have a peek into the hangar that was clearly the Seekers’ home. Skydive was by the foundations of the tower, absentmindedly rapping his knuckles on one crossbeam, looking up and probably trying to imagine what it would like when it was ready. 

The shuttle was suddenly gripped by how youthful and carefree they looked and acted. Away from the war, shedding the heavy responsibilities of being the Autobots’ only air force, having a leader who was a flier and understanding them, they reverted to their real age very fast. Of course he has seen them playing occasionally, but on the Ark they always tried to act adultlike and responsible. Here though… even Silverbolt’s frame lost that tenseness that always characterised him among the Autobots. Things weren’t riding on his shoulders any more.

“Come on, everyone. Let’s throw up a couple of hangars. We have materials enough and you can recharge out of the wind and dust tonight.”

Between so many strong servos, it didn’t take long to build the hangars and Skyfire, after a little search in his memory banks produced a plan for a proper wash racks too, complete with the necessary plumbing. They only started on that before the night cycle came, but it was necessary work and neither of them complained for it. Thundercracker worked out a schedule of patrols too, incorporating all of them in it – and if the humans were surprised by interstellar shuttles, a Concorde and various other jets doing the agreed patrol rounds, they didn’t say so. Not to them anyway.

Skyfire finally allowed himself a little hope that things would work out right. He was still worried about the Autobots and even more so about Megatron’s inevitable retaliation… but at least their little colony was on its way to work well. If they were left alone… it was a fool’s wish but he still indulged in it a little… then they could be living more like before the war. In peace at least… and as much as the planet was unlike their home, it wasn’t so bad. 

 

-o-o-o-

“Seekers, scramble!”

It was a heady feeling to say those words and see them obey. True, it was just his Trine and they always had to obey him, occasionally a triplechanger, but still. He was the Air Commander and it was enough. Thrust tucked the nagging worries into a back part of his memory banks and started to bark orders. He didn’t understand why Starscream objected so much – Lord Megatron made good battle plans as far as he understood them. He certainly never dared to criticize them during the pre-battle briefings. 

Of course not all battles went by the plans and they lost some too, but then they were short of a Trine until Shockwave could sent another – which Thrust hoped not to be soon. The most obvious candidates were the Rainmakers and that would make his orns as Air Commander short. Just the thought of mad, radioactive Sunstorm challenging him was enough to make Thrust wobble in the air and tremble inwardly with fright… and not because of the endless sermons the mech spouted. The mech didn’t shot up in the ranks because of his devotion to Primus; no, he had to inherit Starscream’s speed on top of his own deadly radiation weapon.

But still, as far as they could avoid the Autobots’ crazy frontliners and their Jet Judo, they had pretty much supremacy in the air these orns, free to strafe and pick the Autobots from the air, safe in the knowledge that they couldn’t reach them now, lacking fliers. Well, that is, safe except for the accursed sharpshooter who seemed to be determined to down them in each battle. He couldn’t kill a Seeker from so far, but that sniper rifle made short work of ailerons, wingtips, sometimes a turbine or thruster – all enough to hobble or even ground a flier. 

And sometimes Lord Megatron would order them to the ground and they had to guard the making of the energon or his latest weapon of doom – on these occasions, Thrust secretly agreed with his predecessor, that Seekers were ill-fitted to fight on the ground. Too big targets, too many sensitive surfaces, too inconveniently placed ranged weapons… on these occasions they always returned to the Nemesis in sorry conditions and little or no energon to show for the effort.

But this time, everything went to the Pit. Ramjet has been downed by the red menace who got onto his back and tore his cockpit apart, making a mess of his flight equipment. Dirge still flew but instead of his distinct sound he was drawing a line of thick, black smoke on the sky from his engine, courtesy of a well-placed shot from the Autobot sniper. He was useless now in the battle. Thrust himself had a glancing shot and it loosened a connector somewhere, slowing him down considerably. On top of it he couldn’t seem to hit even the most obvious target, despite his best attempts, so maybe his targeting software was damaged too.

On the ground it was even worse and Thrust didn’t dare to count the Cons already down or near so. The super-ray-light-whatever gun Soundwave was wielding with distaste produced little effect compared to the expectations. Their remaining combiners was shot apart yet again… and Hook already had to tend to his own teammates. Retreat was their only option even though they had no energon to show for the effort and the many injured. Lord Megatron would be furious…

“Idiot, worthless imbeciles!” - the roar echoed in the relatively small space of the elevator and all Decepticons cringed, trying to become one with the walls, not to be the one would be singled out as scapegoat – “Thrust, you are even worse than that slagging traitor! He could at least fly, but you? You’re a disaster on wings!”

Thrust cringed, but there was nowhere to run or hide in the small space. He was picked up by the throat and when the lift arrived, thrown out to the command center floor. The rest of the army scurried out by the walls, every mech avoiding to look at the hapless Seeker who barely had time to rise to his knees before a pair of powerful servos grabbed his wings and started to twist the sensitive appendages. Thrust screamed and flailed his arms backwards, to protect his wings but he could do nothing.

“Worthless! Idiot! Waste of metal!” – each shout was accompanied by a blow or a kick – “Disobeying traitor!”

A pede was planted into his back, pushing him forward, while the sensitive metal wingtips were crushed by Megatron’s servos, pulled back until the pressure was unbearable. The right wing gave first and with a horrible crack it broke off the hinge, spraying energon and trailing torn wires. Thrust’s screams became high-pitched wailing mixed with babbling pleas to have mercy and please stop… not that they achieved anything. For an agony-filled klik, Thrust understood why Starscream was so fast to beg for mercy, the act they all called cowardly and laughed at. But understanding made it no more bearable as the other wing was ruthlessly torn off his back as well.

His trine-mates were the only ones staying, carefully behind the raging tyrant’s back, holding onto each other with their own battle-induced injuries, but staying for their Trine-leader. Thrust saw them, but his relief at their staying was swamped by the pain of the blows and kicks that rained down on his broken frame. His pleas turned to whimpers and inarticulate screams until his vocalizer too shorted out. 

He felt very little by the time Megatron’s anger was appeased and his bleeding frame was kicked out of his way as the tyrant stomped out of the command center. Ramjet and Dirge was silent too when they dragged him out, down the hallways and into the repair bay. It was way worse than any punishment so far. Tearing off a Seeker’s wings… so far that was exclusive to Starscream, _‘rewarding_ ’ his assassination attempts on Megatron – not for a simple lost battle. 

Then Hook made him wait until he finished with his own teammates’ injuries, showing how little clout Thrust actually had… Starscream was at least always repaired first, while he was left to writhe in agony, only the leaking energon tubes patched up. Thrust cursed that he didn’t even fall to stasis and so he had to suffer all the damage online – and when Hook finally deigned to fix him, without a painkiller too. Three joors later it was not a happy Air Commander who left the repair bay and staggered back to his quarters, where his Trine awaited him in similarly bad mood.

“That was… awful…” – Dirge offered to his irate Trine leader in way of consolation.

Thrust didn’t answer him while he stomped to his berth and sat heavily. He still felt the repairs acutely and whenever his wings twitched they did with an underlying jag of ache in the joint. Dirge moved to get closer, but wasn’t sure if he should. Only an impatient gesture made them both scurry over to their trine leader and cautiously stroke his wings. Ramjet was surprisingly quiet as he huddled onto his aching cockpit and his own wings folded up behind him. 

“What the frag could I have done?” – Thrust exploded at last, throwing his servos into the air, turbines spinning unhappily – I can’t fight on the ground!”

“We are doomed if we can’t fly…” – Dirge commiserated. 

“Maybe Starscream was right.”

Ramjet’s voice was sullen but defiant and he glowered back when his wingmates stared at him incredulously – and Thrust with not a little fear and a glance at the ceiling where Soundwave’s cassettes usually prowled the vents.

“Shut up Ramjet!”

Ramjet held his wings level for a klik until Thrust started to growl, but lowered them at the last klik, showing that while he held onto his opinion, he acquiesced to his Trine leader. 

“Not here, you idiot!” – Thrust hissed and smacked a dark red wingtip warningly – “I don’t want to be branded as a traitor as well!”

That shut Ramjet up, his glower softening a little. He wasn’t the most intelligent of mechs to begin with and his constant head-on collisions rattled his processors more than Hook could ever repair, but he understood danger once his attention was called to it. With a nervous glance towards the vents he shuffled closer to Thrust and the three of them huddled together in misery…

Two more battles later Thrust couldn’t help but think rebellious thoughts. He was hobbling in the air, one thruster spewing thick, black smoke behind him, wings aching from laser scores. The rest of the Decepticon army has already disappeared beyond the horizon, not wasting a single glance to the injured flier… and his trine-mates, the only ones keeping him company. Dirge was unhurt, but silently keeping his place by Thrust’s wing, while Ramjet wobbled dazedly by the other, keeping the slow pace with difficulties on his own. 

Thrust didn’t want to think what would await him when they got back to the ship, but he couldn’t stop the fear that shook his wings from time to time. Since the threats Megatron made the last time, he was terrified of being grounded with torn wings and this time he had a bad feeling in his tanks… when he veered away from their course at first his trine-mates didn’t even notice it. They had their own problems, after all and it wasn’t unusual for any of the fliers to make some detours after a battle. But not while injured… 

When Thrust landed on a barren mountain they followed him, wings angled questioningly. His thruster was in a bad shape but he could have reached the ship on them – besides neither of them were very good with repairs. But Thrust gave no indication of what he was planning, just scuttled forward, into a small place surrounded by rocks from all sides. Ramjet followed him bemusedly, while Dirge looked around worried.

“I… I can’t go back.”

Thrust mumbled at last, not even looking at them. His left wing hung lower due to the injury to the hinge, but he was struggling to hold the other high too. What he was admitting was a weakness and he might lose his position if Ramjet decided to challenge him. But he couldn’t face Megatron any more. He’d rather have his wings attached.

“But… where do we go then?”

Fortunately for him, Ramjet only looked baffled.

“I… anywhere else. Like you said last time… maybe we’re better off alone.”

“But we don’t have anything!”

“We can… raid the humans alone!”

“You can barely fly!”

“We are doomed…”

“Shut up, Dirge!”

They stood facing each other, uninjured wings lifted high and flared wide, servos clenched in fists. The argument quickly deteriorated into a shouting match with very little of it making sense. They were just… not very good with planning and foresight, Thrust quietly realized in his processor. He sat down heavily on a rock, not caring about anything any more. He couldn’t stand on his injured thruster any more and his processor throbbed from the shouts. Burying his faceplates into his palms, the flier didn’t notice his trine-mates stopping the arguments and hesitantly look at him. He was just about done and he didn’t care even if he was challenged any more. Let Ramjet think about how and where to go.

Thrust suddenly felt his whole function was a big, glaring failure since he got his Trine. How proud he was back then, how great the future seemed… but soon he learned that being better than those two rejects meant nothing against others. He lost and lost and was dominated time and time again… until he was not even challenged any more and his own attempts were scoffed by the always victorious, always proud Trine-leaders like Starscream… it was a bitter experience to be at the very bottom of the food-chain and that’s where they all were on Cybertron. Why Lord Megatron choose them to go with him, Thrust never guessed, but he was elated to be off of Darkmount even if it meant to live on a sunken spaceship, under the ocean of an organic planet.

Even if it meant Starscream and his arrogant trine for company. Starscream thought himself so much his better, he never bothered to challenge him and most times Thrust could get away with a quick frag and a little sneer. Far better than an average orn in Darkmount. His confidence built up a little, away from all that derision he got from most Seekers, and truth to be told they learned a little from the Elite Trine, as much as he would never admit it to anymech. But it all went to the Pit when those Autobot fliers came and he was forced ton swallow that barely youngsters were still better than his Trine. Then, when he was just about enjoying his victory, Starscream had to come and take his deserved win out of his servos, made him look like a nomech again, humiliated him in front of that accursed big jet…

During his miserable thoughts Thurst didn’t consciously notice when someone started to rub his wing, but it was nice and he flared his wings into the servos… until the injured parts moved and the pain made him return to the here and now. He was rather surprised to see his trine-mates standing behind and give him a wing-rub… they weren’t usually that sentimental, nomech could be seen caring too much in the Decepticon army. But there they were, Ramjet’s servo soothing on one wing, while Dirge started to work on the other and Thrust sat there surprised, somewhat cautiously elated and even touched. He had expected a lot of things, feared them in fact… but not the silent support from his mates.

“I won’t go back. I don’t know what we should do, but I won’t go back.” – he spoke quietly, letting them feel his thankfulness in his field and wings – “I’m not an Air Commander… never been, probably never will be… but I’m not going to be a punching bag either. I’d rather starve here than have my wing torn and be grounded for something I’m not responsible for.”

“I… “ – Ramjet has never been a mech of words – “… I think you’re right.”

The both glanced to Dirge, who sighed slowly and put down the small welder he was using on Thrust’s wing. Shrugging both wings, he mumbled to them low.

“It doesn’t really matter where we end up, now, does it? We’re slagged either way. Lemme see that thruster.”

Thrust felt surreal. 

“Where did you learn fixing things?”

“I watched them in the repair bay. Don’t know much, but… I try.”

“S-sure…”

Thrust propped up his thruster to another rock and watched as Dirge cautiously fiddled with the insides. He wasn’t sure if it could be made worse or not, but he knew nothing about repairs and Ramjet… well, that was a laughable idea. So he would have to trust Dirge and his second-servo knowledge…

“So… we stay here?” – he shouldn’t be asking it, Thrust knew, but he just wasn’t in a commanding mood.

The fields intertwining with his weren’t very sure, but they at least supported him.

-o-o-o-

Skyfire sent the appropriate signals and shut down his comm. He was a calm and peaceful mech and polite to the fault – as Starscream had often told him, they could cut titanium sheets on his back – of which he politely answered to his partner that no, he definitely wouldn’t allow anymech to do that – but humans talked quite a lot even for his tastes and their constant chatter was not something he would want to listen right now.

“Don’t you find it… demeaning to fly at those pitiful meatbags’ beck and call?”

Skyfire was silent for a breem almost, not even a wingtip wobbled as he flew beside the brown-black shuttle. Blast Off was far more restless and it showed his many course corrections. It’s been a long time the two of them flew together… eons really and though it felt familiar, good even, they still had to get used to each other again.

“No, I don’t. I mean I don’t fly for the humans, I fly this patrol for Starscream. Who is the Winglord now, once again.”

“Oh yes, our mighty Winglord.” 

Blast Off’s dry tone reminded Skyfire that shuttles as general had never accepted the Winglord’s rule. Still, he, too accepted Starscream as their leader… for now, it appeared. 

“We are too few to be separated into fractions.”

“That’s true. Grounders have always used that to subdue us.”

Skyfire didn’t think it was that easy or simple, but he didn’t want to argue. He kept his distance from the other shuttle, but Blast Off kept trying to close it, all the while they flew their patrol route – it made for some interesting maneuvering. Finally, Skyfire couldn’t take it silently any more.

“Will you keep proper distance? I know we agreed to… start anew, but it doesn’t mean I want to engage in wingplay all the sudden!”

“We…what?” – Blast off veered aside with a roar of his atmospheric turbines. The surprise in his tone convinced Skyfire that it wasn’t what he thought and he felt guilty for snapping at his partner. – “I wasn’t… it’s not what you think!”

“Then what is it?”

It was Blast Off’s turn to fall silent, but Skyfire was patient enough to await until the other was ready to spill. They had plenty of time on this patrol and it wasn’t like the task required a lot of attention.

“It’s… a gestalt thing…” – Primus, he was practically mumbling, Skyfire thought, before it suddenly snapped. And he was _not_ feeling jealous then, no. 

“Ohh… your… teammates? You miss them?”

“It’s not… not like I _miss_ them. Slaggers, I could do without them. Ons was the only sane one… but the gestalt link is… it is acting up.”

Skyfire’s only knowledge of a gestalt was the Aerialbots but the young jets loved each other, even as they argued sometimes – but he couldn’t imagine a gestalt where the members hated each other but still needed the link.

“How did you…? Why did you join them?”

“I knew them before the war… you met Vortex too, right?”

“Yes… unfortunately, I had.”

“Oh yes, he wasn’t completely normal even back then…anyhow, we knew each other and we made a pretty good team. They weren’t so bad back then. When the gestalt technique was discovered, we volunteered to try it. Nomech had said it would create an unbreakable, pervasive, compelling link, a bond among us. They only told us about the combining part and that sounded… awesome. To become a huge, powerful warrior…”

“I see…”

“No, you don’t. It was the beginning of the war. Pretty equal forces on both sides. We wanted a quick victory. A superwarrior like Bruticus could have decided that for us.”

“But it didn’t…”

“No, it didn’t. Nomech knew, not Shockwave, not Starscream, noone why the combiners were all so… simple.”

“Stupid as a drone, you mean.”

“Yes. It meant I gave up my freedom, bonded to a bunch of insane idiots for the rest of my function for… for nothing. Then Starscream used us for one of his insane power-plays and again who got the short end of the stick? Us.”

“But combiners are still powerful. I saw battles and …”

“…and what? We never became that superweapon they hoped for. Never really decided even battles, much less the war. We could do more as a simple team, I swear. Pit, I could do more alone.”

Skyfire pondered a little about what he learned and came back to the first point… the most important if they were to ever become anything… anything like partners.

“So you uhh… need your gestalt-mates? I mean… the bond?”

“I can lock it down completely… and we usually do that, unless we have to combine. I have no wish to feel those idiots any more than I have to.”

“Then why do you need it now?”

This time Blast Off didn’t answer for so long that Skyfire got a bit worried. He glanced over to the brown shuttle, but of course their alt modes weren’t much for finer expressions, so he gave it up soon. They flew in an uneasy silence, only the roar of turbines and the swoosh of air around them breaking it – but then those were sounds neither of them were aware of consciously. 

“The closeness.”

“Sorry, what?” 

Primus, the sudden speaking up was so surprising that Skyfire nearly wobbled in the air and he still wasn’t sure what Blast Off meant. 

“Even with a closed gestalt-link, I always… felt their closeness. Their presence. It is strange to be… alone. I haven’t been this far from them for this long since… you know.”

“Ohhh…”

Skyfire wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Jealous? No, he shouldn’t be jealous. Blast Off clearly said that he didn’t miss his gestalt-mates, didn’t have all that great relationship with them. But he was still _bonded_ to them. From what Skyfire knew about the Aerialbots and the Protectobots, that was a real bond, as strong as mate-bonds. Of course the Combaticons weren’t created as a gestalt, they were single, autonomous mechs before the gestalt-experiment… but was Blast Off now the same mech he knew before the war? No, that was a bad question… of course he wasn’t. No more than Starscream. But what he was really wondering about was… was Blast Off an individual, a mech or forever just part of a gestalt? Could they even have a future together?

But then, Starscream and Silverbolt were in the same situation, weren’t they?

Skyfire found that he had even more questions now, questions he didn’t know how to ask.

But he put away the doubts when his sensors told him about Cybertronian jets appearing over the ocean humans called Pacific and Skyfire reacted at once, Blast Off only a nanoklik after him.

_“Starscream! We have a situation!”_

-o-o-o-

 

“Shut up!”

“Hey, I’m not a stealth jet.”

“But you could shut your vocalizer, right?”

“Thrust, I don’t think it matters…”

“Dirge, not you too!”

“Ummm… I mean our turbines make more noise than our talking….”

Thrust straightened up, debated for a klik whether to beat them both to scrap, but decided against it. 

“Fine, then, come on and we’ll do it without sneaking.”

The factory was brightly lit, noisy, but almost empty of humans in the night shift – though it didn’t make three huge, brightly coloured and noisy Seekers any less conspicuous. The klik Thrust stepped onto a set of pipes that started hissing gases and splashing fluids, a number of sirens started their wailing alarms around them and several humans spilled out of the buildings, just to be frightened by the huge mechs and run back into the dubious safety of buildings.

“Great work, Thrust. Really great sneaking.” – Ramjet snickered and ducked the swipe from his trine-leader.

“Come on, hurry. We must get some fuel!”

“They’ll call the Autobots soon…”

“Shut up, Dirge and fill the tanks.”

They all carried some fuel tanks, appropriated from lorries and proceeded to fill them up from the torn pipelines. They didn’t have an energon converter and only the haziest idea of how to build one, but until then they could survive on the specialty fuel the facility produced. They tried to steal aircraft fuel first, but apparently human military airfields had ample defences against three Seekers and Thrust ordered them to retreat before any of them were damaged beyond Dirge’s newfound ability to tinker and fix things. This factory was a much easier target and soon they were struggling to lift off with the full tanks, carrying them to the small, shallow cave they nominated as their base.

Thrust hasn’t even realized that they completely ignored the meatbags while collecting the fuel. Suddenly, being no Decepticons, the small organics just didn’t seem important, dangerous, or even just fun to destroy. Survival was taking a front seat to any such pastime and none of them wished either the Autobots or the Decepticons surprising them while they indulged in any such action. 

“It’s… it tastes awful.”

“Don’t drink it, you idiot! We put it into our tanks!”

Sometimes Ramjet was too much for his impatient trine-leader. The black jet spat the fuel everywhere after trying to drink it, like they would do with energon and he was still trying to spit out the taste from his mouth. Thrust held the dripping tank he tore from Ramjet’s servos and contemplated pouring it over his stupid, idiot helm. But he needed the limited-processored jet still. With a sigh he connected a fuel hose to his tank and started the transfer.

“Like this, you moron. Your engines use it and you don’t have to taste.”

Dirge was ready with the transfer by the time Thrust managed to start Ramjet on it and he stood morosely in the entrance of the cave, his back towards them. That was what Thrust noticed, the golden wings shooting up before he turned, pointing out, optics wide and fearful…

“What’s that?”

“T-they are.. coming!”

Thrust jumped to his pedes and hurried to look out as well. What he saw was freezing his energon in his lines.

“Ramjet. Up. Now. We flee.”

“Where to…?”

“Anywhere.”

They were scrambling as fast as they could, putting all speed into their flight, but the Decepticons closed on them all the time and they were more, herding the Coneheads as they wanted. Thrust’s comm line was full of promise of deactivation, torture and his processor nearly burst as he tried to find a way to escape. Ramjet was shouting obscenities back, but he found nomech willing to be his target. Dirge’s engines were sounding their most mournful and for a klik Trust wondered if he was doing it for himself… but he had no time to ponder on it for long. All too soon they were in firing range and an impromptu but messy and very unequal battle started to take place. 

The first time he felt the fusion cannon singe his back, Thrust screamed and dived so fast his struts were creaking with the G-forces. He knew that he couldn’t take many more of that and it was only a glancing shot. They veered to different directions, scattered, never a good idea for trined Seekers, used to their mates covering their sides and they were fast becoming from opponents to targets. The remaining Decepticon army, such as it was were using the frightened Coneheads for target practice, herding the unlucky jets out, over the ocean, to have fun with them, to punish the traitors and most importantly appease the wrath of Lord Megatron. 

Ramjet managed to ram into Astrotrain, but the triplechanger with all his heavy space shielding just laughed at him and he was swatted away like he was an organic fly. Dirge tried to cover both of them, but his commiserating roar was mourning themselves rather than frightening their attackers. Thrust fared the worst, having been pursued by Lord Megatron himself and getting introduced to the infamous fusion cannon from closer than he’d’ve ever wanted to and from the wrong end too. 

They were not only losing badly, but already lost, he realized with energon freezing in his lines. They were boxed in and it was less a battle than a slow execution from then on. They were all smoking sparking and losing energon from smaller injuries and burns, but these were getting more and more serious, more and more painful as time went on. But Trust refused to give up. Now, that the end was near he decided that he didn’t want to die slowly as a coward. He pulled up Ramjet, who was wobbling dazedly and collected Dirge, wheezing heavily and flew a slow turn that had them facing the sinister form of Lord Megatron and the gathering energies of the fusion cannon.

“Hold close to me.”

“We go together?”

“We're Trine.” 

It was too slagging heroic, he thought with a grimace and they weren’t heroes. Just losers. But they were good last words.

Thrust stared at the blackened, gaping muzzle of the fusion cannon unable to tear his sensors away from it, from the roiling energies within, ready to release. He watched as it exploded out of the barrel and whitened out his visual sensors.

He didn’t notice the jets approaching from above, two interstellar shuttles diving to push the menacing, silvery form aside, several smaller, faster shapes streaking into the circle and scattering the surprised Decepticons. 

He did notice not being shot though.


	18. Starscream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long since I updated this fic, or my others. Writing, as I answered to one comment doesn't come easily to me lately, though it might have changed a bit. I could finish this chapter and work on the next one, which will probably be the last of this fic. I hope it goes well.

“So what the frag are we going to do with them?”

Skyfire admitted that it was indeed a good question. He had acted automatically seeing the fight… well, it was more like an execution, which he just couldn’t watch and so he didn’t think of consequences. He was just glad that Starscream reacted by helping him and not questioning why he asked it; the Seeker probably saw it as a small opportunity for revenge on Megatron, but Skyfire didn’t question his motives closely. 

“They need some repairs first.”

He answered mildly, refusing to answer the real question and Starscream’s annoyance. Blast Off stood to the side as he had no medical knowledge and neither a wish to explain himself to the irate Starscream. 

“What about after that???”

Starscream demanded his attention by grabbing a white shoulder plate, yanking on it strong enough for Skyfire to hiss and pointed out of the window.

“Have you thought of HIM at all?”

Skyfire had to admit that no, he didn’t. His servos stilled on Thrust’s injuries as he stared out of the window, guiltily and worriedly watching the large frame of Silverbolt as the Concorde sat on a nearby boulder and fretted. His gestalt mates were around, but if he saw right, no amount of wing-rubs and murmured words were able to calm the young mech. Silverbolt has done a pretty good job of forgetting what happened and not letting it trouble him, but seeing the one who in effect raped him – coding or not, it was as near a rape as it could be - brought to their little colony upset him greatly again. 

“I’m sorry for Bolt. But I couldn’t just watch them casually executed by Megatron.”

Starscream’s lipplates thinned but he, too acted on hard-coded instincts, the Winglord’s coding in full effect, compelling him to save as many of their frame-kin as he could. Including the Coneheaded idiots, the flying jokes of Seekerkin. Why Primus saw fit to have them around when so many worthier Seekers were deactivated… but that road of thinking was pointless so Starscream didn’t follow it. Though it took an effort.

“They’ll have to be gone.” - he spat out angrily.

Ramjet and Dirge cowered in the corner, twitching at every word of the angry Starscream. His transformation from Air Commander to Winglord has made him even more threatening to the hapless Seekers and since Thrust was offline, there was nothing between them and the visibly furious Seeker, who appeared to have grown in stature and authority since they last saw him. 

“Gone, where?”

Starscream glowered back to Skyfire unfazed and spat out his answer a word at a time.

“I. Don’t. Care.”

“Having them gone is equivalent to murder. The Decepticons will find them again.”

“They can go to the Bots for all I care!”

“They are Seekers, Starscream.” – Skyfire countered him mildly, while his servos worked on damaged circuitry. – “They’ve done nothing strictly illegal, as the coding and its effect is recognized by Vosian law. You told me as much before.”

“Silverbolt is a youngling!”

“In an adult frame. He is registering as adult… your own coding recognized him as such too.”

Starscream couldn’t counter that. Clamping his mouthplates together hard he glowered back. It was true… and however considerate he was even way back the first time… he still did the same. That he wasn’t the complete afthole Thrust was about it, didn’t change the fact that he took Silverbolt as victor’s right. It was all messed up royally and he had no idea how it could be resolved. The little trick about the factions that he had introduced to their coding had no effect now, as they were all on the same side, so the coding was in full effect. In all of them… well, save Skyfire. The lucky slagger.

Starscream knew that in their fluid, new situation, without a settled society, a recognised structure, it would take very little now for the coding-induced fights to erupt. His own status as Winglord would ensure he was not challenged for trivialities and the younglings were raised with a suppressed coding and taught by the accursed Autobots not to start fights - so they would probably not instigate challenges. The shuttles would probably and hopefully be concerned with their relationship as it developed again, and Blast Off has never been an actively challenging kind, quietly holding his nobility as an automatic fact that raised him above other fliers. Queer as that too was, anyhow.

Thrust… was a different matter. Down in the pecking order so much and for so long, he had nothing to loose as he could only go up. Messed up seriously in the processor from his constant failures and given a few insecure youngling-adults and a pair of docile shuttles into the equation, it was nearly impossible for him to refrain from challenging somemech as soon as he was able to. And frag it all to the nether Pit, Skyfire was right – he had neither reason nor authority to forbid him anything. To live with them, to be part of their little group – or to have him challenge any of the others if he felt like so. No matter how destructive it would be on all involved.

Starscream scowled and glowered at the unconscious form of the Conehead on the berth. He so didn’t want these complications right now and as good as spoiling Megatron’s plans felt, it was unnecessary risk. Risk, they couldn’t afford, he couldn’t allow. In such a small group any infighting would be felt tenfold.

“It… it was wrong.”

Both of them looked up at the quiet, slightly shaky voice from the corner of the room. Dirge looked almost like fainting at his own boldness to interrupt them, but he continued.

“What he did. It was… wrong. They feel younglings.”

Starscream’s sneer adequately expressed his ‘well, duh’ answer, but Dirge continued boldly.

“He won’t do it again.”

Even Skyfire raised a brow plate at that and Ramjet stared at his suddenly emboldened Trine-mate like he turned crazy. Starscream didn’t look convinced though.

“How so?”

“I… I dunno…” Dirge’s boldness was evaporating and he didn’t really had a solid answer anyhow “… I just… I think he won’t. He… changed while we were hiding.”

Starscream snorted and turned away, the sound promising nothing good for the Coneheads.

“When he is conscious again…” he answered at last, containing his irritation but his tone hard and cold - “tell him that customs, coding or not, if he tries anything of the like again… he won’t survive the attempt.”

The Coneheads apparently understood the threat perfectly, huddling together and lowering their wings meekly. Starscream’s own were high and flared in a very real threat and authority display that came across to all present very clearly before he turned and left. Skyfire smothered a smile and continued to work. He wasn’t a medic by any stretch of imagination, but Thrust’s injuries apparently weren’t all that deep or serious either. With a little help his self-repair would fix them completely. 

Two orns later Starscream was fretting in the middle of the compound, still not completely decided about the Coneheads. The previously good, hopeful mood of their little company was in shambles, the Aerialbots were in varying measures of angry, fearful and indignant according to their temperament, Dirge and Ramjet were nearly hiding, while the fragging shuttles were more often than not off for an orbital… whatever that Starscream didn’t want to think about deeper. Hopefully still in the ‘talking over things’ stage of their relationship.

And Skywarp, as usual, was not helping. Pranks, despite what his idiot third thought didn’t solve everything and didn’t break funky moods. Starscream silently fumed with a string of multicoloured, sticky… something in his servos, he confiscated from the teleporter and considered looping it back around Skywarp’s neck and tighten. A klik of contemplating the idea and… nahhh… they wouldn’t be strong enough. His chain of thought was broken by a polite clearing of a vocalizer and Starscream jumped to his pedes growling.

“What?”

“Starscream…”

Thrust surprisingly wasn’t belligerent or annoying like he usually presented himself. Wings properly lowered – the first time in existence without a prompting or a threat – faceplates betraying a strangely unsure, hesitant expression, Thrust approached him with something Starscream identified as… _respect_? His trine-mates were in proper positions behind his wings and Starscream commed his own mates to be present. It was likely to become a formal occasion, much as he didn’t expect it to be.

“Winglord Starscream!”

Thrust hurriedly corrected himself on his own and Starscream lifted a surprised brow-plate. He also flared his wings and stepped over to a flat part of the square. A flash of purple from the corner of his vision signalled his trine-mates arrival and he felt them move to proper positions as well. The stage was set. Whether it would come out as a challenge or not was now up to whatever Thrust said or did next.

“I… apologize…” – Thrust’s voice was tight and he obviously didn’t say the words easily. But he did and Starscream had to keep the next flash of shock from showing. The Conehead trine-leader was anything but contrite in the best of circumstances. – “Y-you were right. Megatron was… is mad. We couldn’t stay any more.”

Starscream this time didn’t suppress his sneer but neither his satisfaction at proven right. Not that he needed the affirmation from these three, but it was still good. 

“High time you noticed.”

His tone was sharp and scathing, wings giving nothing from their rigidly formal position. He noticed the Aerialbots approaching too and settling on the side of the plaza, watching, observing – and not interfering. He felt a flash of approval at their maturity and correct reading of the scene and turned his attention back to Thrust.

“What is it that you intend to do now?”

Thrust’s wings lowered further, though the struggle to do so was clearly visible on his faceplates. He tensed, fear suddenly appearing in the angle of his wings, but he bowed to Starscream, wordlessly ordering his trine to do so too.

“We… ask to be allowed to stay…”

“Why should I let you?!?”

Starscream has already made his decision, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t let Thrust to sweat for it a bit. Or… more than a bit. 

“Youngling-abuser!” – Okay, so he let Skywarp growl that out loud, what he himself couldn’t say without being an outright accusation. 

Thrust’s red optics flashed to the teleporter, to Silverbolt, huddling with his brothers on the side and back to the glowering Starscream, fear appearing in them too. 

“I’d never do that! He is not a youngling in frame!”

“Semantics.” – he sneered and his wings signalled contempt and despise.

“B-but I…”

Starscream was shocked to see Thrust visibly biting back his next words and getting hold of his temper. The Conehead must have been even more shaken by his ordeals than he previously thought to be so… restrained.

“It was my right… but it was wrong to force it. I… apologize…” – he told the last of it turning towards Silverbolt, who looked at least as surprised by it than Starscream. – “I’m ready to… atone for it…”

Before Starscream could work out what the frag he meant, Thrust sent his trine-mates back with a twitch of a wing and turned, slowly lowering himself until he knelt before the frozen Starscream, presenting his aft and spread wings for him. The gesture was obvious and for the first time in his long functioning Starscream felt something like respect towards the Conehead Seeker. He could hardly imagine how much it must have took to him to offer what he hated the most; to the one he knew to harbour only anger and contempt for him.

Murmuring and sharp invents all around showed that most present have understood the significance of Thrust’s offer and the general mood became tense, expectant, wrought with swaying emotions. Starscream glanced over to Silverbolt and the big Aerialbot nodded minutely, optics bright, wide, but the angry-fearful flickers disappearing. As the wronged party, he had consented and Starscream’s gaze returned to the tensely waiting Thrust in front of him. He took in the wings, spread and trembling from time to time in waiting, effort to stay there and fear of what Starscream may choose to do, turbines faintly whining to stay still. 

The tricoloured Seeker stepped closer and slowly put a servo on the dark hip. Thrust froze at the contact, field drawn close and tense, but his panel snapped open, revealing his valve – dry and unaroused. Starscream stilled for a klik, suddenly realizing that if he took Thrust like this, in retaliation, in anger, with _pain_ … then he would perpetrate the whole chain of events that made the Conehead Seeker to be what he was. No matter how he wanted to repay all the pain and humiliation for Silverbolt – Thrust came to him and offered himself on his own and it changed the whole sorry can of turboworms.

A blue servo moved from gripping a black aft to slide onto trembling wings, the touch light and almost gentle as it followed a line of sensors he knew to be there. Thrust’s field was full of bemused puzzlement as instead of the expected pain his wings were… stimulated, and in a way that he felt pleasurable even through his fear and apprehension. He half turned his helm back to look at Starscream, optics wide and seeking understanding. Starscream sneered back half-sparkedly but his servos continued to tease the red wings, the softly spinning turbines until he felt the red and black metal warming under his touch.

Thrust’s mouth fell open a little, panting as his core temperature rose and his valve started to lubricate slowly, hesitantly, like he still couldn’t fully believe that instead of a painful and punishing coupling he might have a pleasant – albeit still humiliating – interface. Starscream’s touches were sure, almost professional in a distinctly impersonal way that Thrust didn’t seem to mind. No, they didn’t want each other, that was clear. Such interfaces were not about want or desire, though they could be stemming from lust, if nothing else. Lust that Seekers in general had plenty. It helped them to get over the strangeness of the intimacy neither of them wished. 

Touches agitating sensors, digits sliding over seams and a hot crotch plate rubbing over a black aft with heating components. It was almost mechanical, which ironically helped them both in their processors to settle the act and what it meant. By the time Starscream thrust into the Conehead Seeker’s valve, he was more accepting it than even himself would have thought beforehand. It was… pleasurable. It was… good. It was as good as he ever felt about a valve interface. Thrust could nearly forget the humiliation of submitting that went so much against his coding as his temperature rose and he started to grind back, into the thrusts. 

Starscream felt the slow change in the other’s field and picked up the tempo. He didn’t feel desire, not even the pleasure. He was doing this, because it was expected of him to take the other, to assert his will and superiority… and he was considerate against his own wishes, his instincts that still screamed at him to get revenge for Bolt, to hurt Thrust in a way the Conehead had and what he would understand as warning.

But that sort of thing caused the red and black Seeker to lash out at the young Aerial when he could and Starscream, if he silenced his vengeful instincts, clearly perceived it. So he was… considerate not for Thrust, but for something more elusive. A chance perhaps. They were too few to let that sort of hatred fester that Vos, with its millions of fliers could overlook. So he made sure that Thrust was properly aroused and kept the humiliation to the necessary minimum. 

It wasn’t a satisfying interface by any means – not for Starscream anyhow. He almost struggled to reach overload, something he could barely remember to ever experience and had to call up memories with his Trine to help… but eventually, he shouted out and let his transfluid fill Thrust’s valve, felt the resulting overload from him around his spike and saw the red wings shake… and he pulled out as soon as he could, catching his vent so his voice would be steady when he spoke up.

“You may stay.”

It wasn’t quite satisfactory to see Thrust’s respectful, borderline thankful glance as the Conehead straightened up and turned towards him – but other, approving glances were far more important. Even though he of course did not require their approval.

-o-o-o-

Silverbolt kept away from the Coneheads even after the events they all observed, though his gestalt mates were not so reticent – Air Raid and Slingshot grabbed every opportunity to harass and insult them, resulting in small squabbles and fights, though none of them evolving into a real challenge, so Starscream silently overlooked the whole affair. It wasn’t his place to regulate every squabble among the Seekers and if the two Trine leaders choose to ignore it, then… he would do so too.

They had a solid place now, all the immediate survival taken care of, the boredom staved off by the patrols and building – and so Starscream’s processor started to compute the ‘what next’ part of their lives. He kept an optic on the continuing Autobot-Decepticon fightings – or rather he had the shuttles follow it from safe orbits, they seemed to enjoy more and more – and he noted the steady decline on the Decepticon victories. Megatron had rarely had any more success on Earth than grabbing some amount of energon before driven away by the Autobots, but lately even that was missing. Starscream could well imagine the mood in the sunken ship, starving, miserable and defeated, coupled with a mad leader who has lost his punching bag that allowed his anger a safe outlet and nearly all fliers as well.

Watching the raids and skirmishes from the outside, the complete lack of logic in the Decepticon battle plans was even more glaringly noticeable. Megatron of course had even less resources now, lacking most of his aerial forces and a combiner – but even so, the completely haphazard use of what he did have made the Seekers stare and wonder who they could believe Megatron as a competent leader. And it wasn’t only Starscream now. He was the best in tactics and strategy, but he taught the others too and used recordings of these battles to underline his points.

Soon all who cared could see that while Megatron was an uncontested gladiator and a clear winner in any one-on-one fight – but as a general he was barely scraping average and his unpredictable temper usually destroyed whatever strategy he managed to come up with. Way back on Cybertron, he had had several generals in charge of armies and it wasn’t as noticeable as here, on Earth, where he made all the decisions. Had the Prime been able to overcome his noble, but stupid ideals even once, the war would have been over vorns ago. 

Even so, the fliers’ absence from the battles was derailing the stalemate slowly but surely, and definitely to the Autobots’ favour. The loss from both sides was nearly the same, but the Autobots took it far more organized, adjusting their strategy to the new scene, while Megatron continued to waste his resources and mechs in idiotic schemes. Starscream predicted it less than an Earth stellar cycle, before the fighting grew to a point where any small thing, an accident or a happenstance would finally decide the war – and he bet the Autobots as the eventual winners.

Which was why he finally answered to the Prime’s hails that the mech patiently kept sending ever since their defection and Starscream kept ignoring while he built his little colony to be stable and self-sufficient. He wanted to negotiate the Autobots as a sovereign leader, able to back up words with force if necessary. Starscream never forgot and made sure the others didn’t either, just how much the grounders mistrusted and scorned Seekers before the war. He swore never to let grounders make decisions for fliers, no matter how well-meaning and softsparked this Prime was. Primes come and went and history taught them that the Matrix didn’t make them good – just powerful. 

“Starscream, I mostly agree with you, but don’t forget that Seekers had had an attitude too. It wasn’t like grounders just started to hate winged mech for no reason at all.” 

They were sitting under the clear, black sky with its myriad twinkling stars overhead, sipping light, solar high-grade and talking quietly. The heat of the day abated slowly and the only light was the soft shine of the energon cubes on a small table and the red and blue pinpoints of various optics as they sat in a circle. Even Thrust and his trine was there, a little farther than the rest of them, keeping together and being mostly silent. Starscream cast a glance at them occasionally, optics narrowing just a little, but he didn’t object when they cautiously approached and sat at a distance. He shifted a little closer to Silverbolt, wings lifting a little more in an unconscious protective-claiming gesture that made Skyfire smother a smile into his cube – it was almost funny, considering that Starscream was barely half in size of the Concorde. At his words though, Starscream turned back towards him with an annoyed look.

“Don’t try to justify their actions, Skyfire!”

“I don’t. I left too, remember? But there was a time when fliers and grounders lived… in peace, more or less. That changed over the vorns… and it wasn’t all just their doing.”

Silverbolt was listening intently to their conversation. He had never before given real thoughts as to why the Autobots didn’t trust them fully, though Skydive had a few theories. Apparently they weren’t too far from reality.

“The isolationist policy of Vos started in reaction to insults and attempts of interventions from Iacon. This much I know.” Starscream had to learn history and he did, but he was aware of the fact that it was only one side of things. Still, he had seen the other side’s view when at their Academy… more or less.

“I am sure that no Seeker ever wanted to occupy a grounder city. Why would we? We didn’t need grounders as subjects. On the other servo, the Senate has always wanted Seekers, preferably well-trained and obedient ones for the Cybertronian army. So the interest was definitely one-sided.”

“The interest yes. The disdain, no. Don’t tell me that Seekers hasn’t always felt superior to grounders… and displayed it too whenever they could”

Starscream didn’t answer outright. Yes, he has always felt superior to grounders. But then he always felt superior to anymech else too and with good reason too – he was pretty much better than most mechs. Faster, more intelligent, even more beautiful… why shouldn’t he feel superior? But he knew plenty of Seekers who weren’t good like him and still sneered at grounders for not having wings. 

“We are literally above them. Hard not to feel superiority.”

“Skywarp, that’s… absurd.” – Skyfire was visibly trying to pick a less insulting adjective and Starscream smothered a smile. His third didn’t need to be mollycoddled abut his ideas.

“Idiotic, he means. Grounders say that they are closer to Primus, so they should be superior. Which is equally stupid. Vertical placement is about the most idiotic idea to decide superiority.”

The laughter was dissolving the serious mood, but not Starscream’s determination. He would not see Seekers mistreated again, by any other mecha on or off Cybertron. Fortunately the Prime appeared contrite enough so he dared to hope. A little. Things were coming along finally.


End file.
